It Happened in the Village
by Moonchild707
Summary: In the summer of 801, a family is blessed with the birth of twins. With an uncertain future for both children in an age of superstition and prejudice, we recount the earliest days of the Volturi's most notorious offensive weapons: Alec and Jane.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've decided to get a start on this new side-story that's been running through my mind. Like the summary suggests, it's the story of Jane and Alec's childhood, before they joined the Volturi. This story takes place in a medieval Italian village. More details at the end, since I don't want to spoil anything.**

**Also, there is a somewhat graphic birth scene in this chapter, so if that's not your thing, then I suggest you move on (nothing explicit).**

Chapter 1

The flickering light from the hearth cast a dull glow around the room. Three women huddled together, each face drawn tight with worry as the fourth lay on her palette, breathing heavily.

"Come now, Felicity," said the eldest. Though she was the voice of authority among the women, her face was still young. Her ruddy hair was matted and tangled with the day's discord, all thoughts of her own appearance pushed from her mind. Her work-hardened, calloused hand held that of the younger woman while another set of hands fluttered.

Felicity's prominent belly jutted out before her, inhibiting her movements and keeping her idle. The girl cried out as her stomach hardened once more, the pains stronger than they'd been just minutes ago.

The woman furthest from the laboring mother had her fingers clasped around her whittled cross, her mouth moving in silent prayer. As the older woman reached beneath the skirts of the dress Felicity wore, her brows furrowed in unbroken concentration.

"The babe is nearly here," she said soothingly. "You'll need to push down."

Felicity's pale eyes widened, fear emanating like waves of heat.

"That babe won't be birthed without you pushing," she said practically. "Go on now."

"I cannot," said Felicity, her head moving from side to side. "Lord help me, I cannot—"

"The Lord _is_ helping you, girl," snapped the pious one. "He's giving you children."

"Hush, Rosamund," said the third woman. "Be quiet."

Rosamund returned to her prayers, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. Felicity cried out—a guttural, primal sound— as another pain gripped her.

"Feel that?" asked the redhead. "That's your babe asking to come out. Now push, child, before it is too late."

A new kind of fear came over her—one that did not revolve around her.

Felicity steeled herself against the fear and the pain and gave a little push, gasping at the fire she felt between her legs.

"I know it hurts, sweeting," said the kinder of the three. "It'll be over soon."

"Unless there's two," said Rosamund unhelpfully. "Hiltrude said she looks big."

"Rosamund, keep quiet!" snapped the copper-haired woman, Hiltrude. "Gisela, come here and be of some help."

Rosamund, returned once more to prayers and the light-haired, heavyset woman called Gisela brought over a basin of water from the river.

"Has that been heated?" asked Hiltrude. "We can't have them getting cold."

"Them?" asked Felicity, fearful and tired.

"Hush child, and bear down," said Hiltrude sternly. "The quicker they're brought out the quicker it'll be over."

Felicity felt the ring of fire intensify and with a great breath, she spread her legs and bore down. The babe's head pressed against her sharply and she felt the urge to retract once more, but she kept on.

"That's it, sweeting," said Gisela. "You're quite close."

Felicity felt her breath run out and with a great gasp of air, the babe slipped back again.

"Again," said Hiltrude, unrelenting. Felicity obeyed and again, she felt her child move.

"That's right," urged the midwife. "Almost there now."

Felicity had heard the stories of women in her village. She knew that when women often died while giving life to their children. She knew she could bleed and she would be dead. She knew that the child could damage her inside, and she might be lost. She knew that the babe, who had grown big and strong within her, was in need of the air God had given the people to sustain life. She knew that without it, her child would most certainly die.

Burchard was frantic for another son to add to his arsenal, and Felicity was going to give him one.

"That's it, child!" cried Hiltrude. "Good girl!"

Felicity felt the child moving again and again and her body, ever pliable, stretched to accommodate it. She knew when the little fleshy head had emerged and the child's shoulders began to slide through. She felt the fire—she _screamed_ at the fire—but continued onward, bound and determined to see this through.

"One more, and I think we'll be done!" said Hiltrude. Rosamund's praying heightened in volume as the child slipped into Hiltrude's hands, quiet and still.

"It is a girl child," the woman declared, maneuvering the small body in her hands. Felicity, exhausted, looked up from her place and sought out her new daughter.

The babe was still and quiet as Hiltrude jostled and patted her, determined that she should wake up and cry.

And cry she did.

As Hiltrude's hands rubbed up and down the tiny back, the tiny girl let out a high, gurgled wail that filled the house. A chorus of childish cheers were heard outside and the small door was flung open. Audovera rushed inside, breathless and excited, moving right to her mother.

"Oh Mama, is it a brother?" she asked, bright eyes glued to Hiltrude.

"No, it is a new sister," she said gently, handing the newly-blanketed babe to the girl. "Take her to the fire and see that she warms."

Felicity felt a pang of envy as she watched her husband's oldest child rush away with her infant, placing her down before the hearth.

"Such a pretty baby," she cooed. "What shall she be called?"

"Has the priest arrived?" asked Rosamund. "There must be a christening!"

If the babe died before the holy words were said, her soul would surely be damned to hell.

Everyone, save the newborn, fell silent before Rosamund's voice called out again.

"Magnatrude!" she cried. "Trudy, come at once!"

A small girl rushed into the house, dark hair all asunder atop her small head.

Her eyes fixated on her mother.

"Where is the priest?" asked Rosamund worriedly. "Has Father Alexander arrived?"

"No, mother," she said, shaking her head. "Might I go see the babe?"

"No, you may fetch the priest," she said urgently. "Go quickly and take Bero with you."

"But mother—"

"Do not _argue_ with me, girl," said Rosamund, her temper bubbling dangerously. "Go now before the babe freezes!"

Magnatrude's eyes widened with childlike fear and she tore from the house, leaving the door open. Though it was midsummer, the air was cool and Felicity felt it over all her skin. Trudy could be seen through the gap snatching up her little brother's hand and pulling him forth, urgent.

"It is of no use," said Rosamund, displeased with the delay. "I shall say the holy words, for I know them well."

It had been Rosamund who had said the words for Gisela's last son Otker, when Father Alexander had been held indoors by the heavy snow some winters passed. She moved to the two girls and took the babe from the child, holding her expertly. She placed her cross on the child's covered belly and kissed her softly on the forehead, speaking the words clearly.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…" she said, crossing herself with her free hand.

The three women and the small girl followed suit, Felicity's arms heavy and tired. The babe squawked when her blanket was adjusted and the women took a soothing breath when the words were said and the child continued to wail.

Felicity felt another pain.

"That'll be the ending," said Hiltrude, "or perhaps another babe. Give it some time and we'll see."

Gisela sidled forth and sat herself next to Felicity, holding her hand as tightly as she dared. Rosamund returned the baby to Audovera, who rushed forth to present the child to the new mother.

"What shall she be called?" wondered the child, letting the babe suckle at her finger.

Felicity turned to the child who was just seven years her junior and contemplated for a moment, waiting.

"Jehanne," she said softly, touching the baby's cheek. "She shall be called Jehanne for my mother."

Felicity's mother had never known her daughter, as she had fallen victim to one of the terrible stories women often hear when they are with child. Her father's other women had raised her in her mother's stead.

Another pain hit her.

"Hiltrude!" she called out, fearful. Vera, still so young, watched with widened eyes as her mother stepped forth, gently moving her daughter from her path, sending her to the side of the room.

"Hand the child to Gisela," ordered Hiltrude. "Let me see if we are doubly blessed."

Little Jehanne was removed from her mother's grip yet again as Hiltrude turned to Felicity's hardening belly, pressing down. Felicity felt a nudge deep within herself and she groaned out loud, letting her tears loose.

"Now child, bear down," ordered Hiltrude. "This one's been inside long enough!"

Felicity bore down once more and felt the same thing she'd felt before—the beginnings of birth. Gisela did her best to comfort the wailing infant while babe and mother both cried.

The child was hungry.

"Push down, Felicity!" shouted Hiltrude. Rosamund had returned to her cross and was praying fervently, remembering quite clearly how just four summers ago Hiltrude had nearly been taken from them while birthing her twin boys. All the women, Rosamund included, silently prayed that Felicity would not give Burchard two girls—he could forgive one girl, but two would try his temper.

The fire returned to Felicity's body and with all the same feelings as before, she forced the child from her womb and into the world.

"Where is Father Alexander?" moaned Rosamund, seeing the child's imminent emergence.

"Mother!"

The door flew open once more and the small doorway admitted two figures—one hulking and big, the other, small.

"Good God!" cried the priest, turning quickly from the birthing mother. "The girl told me the child had already come!"

"One has," said Rosamund, gesturing to the fireside. The priest had only a moment to waste before Felicity's second child was born into the world, needing no help from Hiltrude to cry.

"Good God in heaven, we have a boy!" cried Hiltrude, holding the naked, squirming son in her dirtied hands. "Father, there has been another son for the house of Baudry!"

"Praise be," said the priest smilingly. Hiltrude tossed a scrap of fabric over the child and lifted him gently up to the priest, who repeated the same words Rosamund had said over the girl.

"Two boy babes?" asked the priest, craning to see Jehanne by the fire.

"No, Father," said Rosamund reverently. "A girl and a boy."

"Very fine," praised Father Alexander. "Have they been named?"

"The girl is Jehanne," said Felicity weakly to the old priest. "For my mother."

"And the boy?" he asked.

Felicity thought for a moment, only one name coming to mind in her fatigue.

"Alexander."

"A strong name for a strong lad," said the priest, returning the child to his mother. "Now, I shall return to the parish and let you women clean up. It smells like livestock."

Felicity's cheeks pinked as she watched the priest go, knowing very well that any strange or foreign odour had come directly from her.

Birthing was not a particularly clean event.

Trudy was the one to take Alexander to the fireside to be with his sisters, keeping him firmly swaddled in his swatch of cloth. Both babes cried for milk as Hiltrude went about changing the hay of Felicity's palette.

"Bring them to me," ordered Felicity gently. The two little girls stepped forth with the small bundles in hand and placed one in each of Felicity's arms, stepping back to let the mother do what her body was designed for.

Both babies suckled and Felicity was barely aware of Hiltrude disposing of the afterbirth under the large tree outside. She cared not that Rosamund was deep in prayer or that Gisela was gently wiping her face with a damp cloth. She didn't notice Hiltrude chastising the other children for being loud when they were finally allowed back indoors.

She did notice, however, when Burchard returned from town, his boisterous noise waking her from her light slumber.

"We have been doubly blessed, sire," said Hiltrude, excited. "Felicity has given you two children."

"Two?" boomed Burchard eagerly. "Two sons?"

"A daughter and a son," said Hiltrude carefully. "One of each."

Burchard harrumphed at the news and Felicity felt herself growing sad… what if he shouldn't love their children?

"Where is he?" he boomed. "Felicity!"

She jerked into full awareness as her husband called for her, rounding the corner.

"Where is my new son?"

"Here, sire," she said, holding the babe in her left arm out for him to see.

The child was asleep, his rosebud lips smacking.

"He's been christened?"

"Yes."

"What has he been called?"

"Alexander, sire," said Felicity carefully. "A good strong name for a strong lad." She repeated the holy man's words.

"Mmm," said Burchard lowly, reaching forth to remove the coverings from his son. As the cool air hit the child's belly, his eyes opened and he let out a hearty wail of protest.

Felicity feared that Burchard would be cross—he was so quick to anger—but to her delight, he just laughed.

"My boy indeed," he said jubilantly. "What a fine man he shall make."

The girl-child whimpered quietly in her mother's arms at the sound of her brother's cry, but her father took no notice.

"Quiet it, Felicity," said Burchard brusquely. "Hand it to the girl."

Audovera stood close to her father, watching him with wide, idolizing eyes.

"Hello father," she said happily. "We have a new brother!"

"Yes," dismissed Burchard. "Now take that whimpering girl to the fire and keep her quiet."

Vera, put out by her father's dismissal, did as she was bid and took the squirming baby away from Felicity. Burchard gently covered his small son back up with his swatch of fabric, looking quite proud.

"Keep that fire going and make sure my boy stays warm," he ordered, looking directly at Gisela. "Then come and meet me in the loft."

Gisela had already given Burchard two sons and no girls, and Felicity knew he was bound and determined to get as many sons off of his women as he could before the end of their cycles.

Felicity looked down at her infant son and sighed, knowing better than to think that Burchard would be pleased with a girl. When Felicity found out she was with child, Hiltrude had told her of the terrible melancholy that had gripped their husband when he found out that Vera was a girl-child, not the son he'd craved. If it were up to Burchard, _every_ child would be a son.

Felicity was very pleased indeed that she'd given Burchard a boy. Now it was her duty to keep the child alive through the coming winter months.

She dreaded losing her children to the cold.

She was distracted from her macabre thoughts, however, when little Alexander's eyes opened once more, his gentle baby blue gaze fixed on the deeper, wiser eyes of his young mother. The boy wiggled under the furs that kept the two of them warm, and Felicity let her hand trail down to his soft belly.

"Sweet boy," she cooed, trailing her finger down his soft cheek. "_My_ boy."

The baby's eyes drooped once more and as easily as breathing, he fell back to sleep.

She wondered when he'd be hungry again.

"Hand the child to me," said Gisela quietly, having snuck up behind the new mother. "You need to rest."

Felicity was hesitant and unnerved, wanting to keep him close.

"He'll come to the fireside to keep warm," she said. "I promised Burchard I'd keep him warm."

Felicity saw the subtle urgency in her gaze, knowing that Burchard didn't like to be kept waiting, so she handed her baby over to Gisela, who in turn handed him to Rosamund. Gisela pulled the fur coverings up higher on Felicity's worn body before she took a step back, surveying the scene with careful eyes.

"Gisela!"

With a jump of surprise, Gisela turned on her heel and scrambled to the rickety ladder that led to the uppermost regions of their home. Felicity watched as her friend disappeared and the quiet rumble of exchanged words reached her ears. Just moments later, she heard the familiar sounds of Burchard's coupling and she knew that already, little Alexander was setting to become the older brother to Gisela's next son.

**A/N: According to SM and the Twilight Wiki page for Jane and Alec, the two were born to a Frankish soldier and an Anglo-Saxon woman around 800AD. It wasn't uncommon in those times for men to have multiple wives (even priests sometimes had more than one wife, though the children of clergymen were rarely recognized since priests were thought to be celibate). I've taken the liberty of naming Alec and Jane's parents, as well as their father's other wives and their children. More information about the number and ages of the other children will be revealed as we go along. **

**"Jane" wasn't actually a name in the 9th century... the name came from "Jehanne". Alec's name is "Alexander" for the same reason. History suggests that "Jane" and "Alec" were more nicknames than actual given names. Also (in case you didn't catch it), Audovera is sometimes called Vera, and Magnatrude is called Trudy (just like Jehanne will be called Jane and Alexander will be called Alec).**

**Expect this story to be in tandem with SM's original storyline.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Not much interest over here! The stats page says over 100 hits, but just 8 reviews. Thanks a bunch to those kind folks who took the time to express their interest and give me some feedback.**

**If you're interested in reading more, _please_ leave me a review. If there's not an audience for my story, I'll take it down and move on to something the readers actually like.**

Chapter 2

As God would have it, however, baby Alexander did _not _become the older brother. When Burchard left Gisela that night, spent and half-drunk, there was no babe to be spoken of. When Burchard returned to his retinue in the north, decidedly set on conquering more land for their people, Gisela's body did not stretch and bulge to accommodate another growing son. Instead, all the attentions in the household were focused on collecting greens and gathering meats.

That year was the first year that the women sent the oldest boy, Bernard, who was just five summers old, to hunt for rabbits and small game in his father's stead. It was the only year that not enough furs were collected and not all the children had warming clothes. Some communal, household furs were fashioned into cloaks and coverings for the snowy months to protect any that might venture out of doors in the chilly cold. When the family went to the church on Sabbath days, children were made to share cloaks.

Audovera and Magnatrude often came home with prickly hands and noses, frost bitten from the cold.

The good news, however, was that neither Alexander nor Jehanne fell ill over the course of the winter. The babes were guarded as if they were precious gems—always kept by the fire and almost never brought out of doors. If Jehanne, the fiery babe, grew cantankerous, her mother would lift her almost to the roof to let her smell the outside air. If she fussed again, the cherubic child would be passed to a brother or sister, who would take it as their duty to amuse her. Bero and Audovera were particularly apt at the task, and were more than happy to help.

Burchard, as it were, stayed north with his retinue for two full summers after the birth of his youngest twins. In his absence, the women began little Alexander's teachings in the art of manhood. Jehanne grew into a toddling, mischievous child that preferred rabbit meat to that of big game. The children grew into miniature _people_, not simply wailing, needy babies.

"Janie girl, go find Vera," said Felicity, waving her hand at her daughter. The light-haired, blue eyed toddler continued to stare.

"It is only a boar, Jehanne, now go," she said. Jehanne had grown quite entranced by the sight of her mother stripping the meat from the bones, hanging it from the rafters to dry.

"Shall we eat him, Mama?" asked Jane.

"Yes, girl," said Felicity. "Now do as you're told and find your sister."

Jehanne, who stood just as high as her mother's hip, took the opportunity without question, knowing that it was rare for her mother to let her venture out of doors. Perhaps, once she got there, she would find herself some pleasurable occupation instead of seeking Vera. Vera always had some work for her to do, and Janie wasn't fond of working.

"Alec, go with your sister," said Felicity sharply.

Janie knew that with Alec, there would be no sneaking away.

"Oh good!" said Vera, now nine summers old. "Come here, you two. It's time you learned to collect."

_Collect,_ thought Janie scathingly.

"That's girls' work," protested Alec. "I'm no girl."

"You're a little boy, Alexander, now come here. Little boys always do women's work."

Alec's rosebud lips turned down in a frown—one that was very reminiscent of his father—and moved forward, knowing very well that Vera wouldn't hesitate to get his mother involved.

"Good lad," she said, handing the younger child a basket. "Take this and watch."

Both toddlers watched as their older sister moved expertly through the field, pulling up roots and stripping seeds from the stalks.

"Seeds and roots of these plants," she said, pointing to the tall grass. "Mind you leave the littler ones, since they need more time to grow."

Jehanne watched with disinterest.

"We take the stalk from these ones," said Vera, holding out her flint knife. "We cut above the roots, and that makes _sure_ that the plant will grow again."

"If you cut it, it grows again?" asked Alec dubiously. "If I cut it, it'll be dead."

His childlike reason seemed flawless, and Vera retorted with the only logic she had.

"It is God's will," she said firmly. "If we cut above the root, we'll eat next year too."

Alec was unconvinced, but did as he was told. Vera, though kind, was a workhorse like her mother and both children knew that she'd keep them outside working for hours with her tireless patience.

Audovera cared not if the children didn't get it right in the beginning. She would wait until they did.

"Trudy, come here!" cried Vera noisily, spotting her sister in the doorway of their home. "We need to collect!"

Trudy's dark hair—having grown much longer since the birth of her youngest siblings—was tangled and dirty from her place stoking the fire, but she eagerly joined the other children in the field.

"Trudy, mind you come back before we eat!" cried Rosamund, sticking her head out of the small window-hole. "We'll need you to turn the meat!"

"Yes mother!" the girl called out, not even turning to see her mother's surly gaze. Rosamund, ever cantankerous, simply closed the hatch at the window and fell silent, returning to her tasks.

"Trudy, your mama's like an old mule," teased Alec smartly, seeing the annoyance on Trudy's face.

"Is not!"

"Is too," he argued back. "Always snapping and grumping at us…"

"She's just tired of you not doing your part," returned Trudy, sulking. "She's a good woman."

Alec laughed, knowing just how to get under her skin.

Trudy—her surly attitude making her much resemble her mother—returned to the harvesting. She invested her time stripping the upper bits from the barley plant, refusing to meet her brother's eyes.

"Alec, go down to the field just there and bring up some carrots," ordered Vera sternly, put out by his attitude.

"Yes ma'am," said Alec mockingly, turning without much care and running down closer to the river, where the carrots were.

Jehanne felt a pang of sadness as she watched her brother go, wishing she was to go with him.

"Janie, take this basket and start collecting," said Vera. "Trudy, make sure she doesn't damage too many stalks."

Jehanne, who was small and short compared to her sisters, struggled to reach all the way up to the top of the plants. She managed, however, and was able to pluck some of the cereal from its host, covering the bottom of her basket.

Trudy paid her little sister no mind, still sulky over Alec's snub.

"Where is Bernard?" asked Vera quietly, looking about for the oldest boy.

"I dunno," said Trudy.

"Mama says he's getting more rabbits," said Janie eagerly. "He's good at fetchin' them."

"No he's not," snarked Vera. "He's just the oldest boy and he's _got_ to fetch them rabbits."

Bernard was eight summers old now, and he was a very big boy in the eyes of his smallest sister.

"He's awful mean now," said Trudy softly, looking around to see if Bernard might be listening. "He struck me yesterday."

Neither girl flinched or recoiled at the idea. Bernard was the man of the house in his father's absence, and was entitled to handle the women however he saw fit.

"Well, you should've done as he asked," said Vera practically. "I heard you tell him no."

"Oh, be _quiet_ Vera!" wailed Trudy. "I'm just as big as him, and every bit as smart!"

"But you're a _girl,"_ Vera reminded her. "Not a boy like he."

"Oh, what does that matter?" she grumped. "Girl or not, I'm just as big as him."

"Maybe you should strike him back," suggested Janie.

Bernard would whale on Trudy something terrible if she did that, and Jane was rather excited at the thought… Trudy was very bossy, and Janie didn't like it.

"Oh hush, Jane," admonished Vera, eyes twinkling in secret delight as well.

Trudy, not one to be fooled, saw it too and stomped her foot, sniffling.

"You're both mean!" she cried, throwing her basket to the ground and turning away. "Mama!"

Vera just laughed as Trudy stormed away, knowing very well that Rosamund would dismiss Trudy as quickly as she came.

"I got them!" cried Alec, his little feet hitting the ground as hard as they could. "They're here!"

"Good boy," said Vera easily, patting Alec's curly head. "Good job fetching the carrots. Now, can you reach the top of these plants?"

"Of course I can," said Alec cockily. His long, lanky little-boy arms reached the tops of the barley plants with ease. "Janie, hold that basket closer."

Jane, glad to be back with Alec, held the basket up for him and let him drop the cereal seeds inside. The pair worked with efficiency, though both were still easily distracted, and by the end of the day, Vera was smothering them with praises.

"…_so_ good of you," she finished. "You'll do just fine in those fields, especially when Janie gets a little taller!"

Felicity took the basket from her son and smiled gently down on them, emptying the basket's contents into the large communal bowl.

Hiltrude, always working, slapped a block of cheese down on the table and poured two glasses of cow's milk—one for both Alec and Janie.

"Drink," she ordered, passing the warm, slightly sour milk to the small children.

Milk was crucial to their health, as all the women knew.

Both children sipped at their cups, swallowing the milk as best they could. It tasted poorly in their mouths but both knew better than to cross Hiltrude—she was not a woman to be safely sassed.

"Drink it _all_, Janie, or you'll be sick," she warned, taking Alec's empty cup. "We can't have you getting ill with winter coming."

Janie drained the small wooden cup of its contents, handing the cup back.

"Mother, is it dinnertime yet?"

Janie whipped around and backed into the table, seeing Bernard come through the door.

"Not yet, my love, but soon," said Gisela, stirring the large pot over the stove. "I'll be sure to call you when it is."

Bernard's face slackened and his brows furrowed together, all evidence of his growing displeasure.

"Jehanne!" he barked, catching sight of the girl beside the table.

Janie peeked out at her brother, seeing nothing but meanness.

"Did you tell Trudy to strike me?" he demanded, his long, light hair falling into his eyes. "Trudy told me you said she should strike me."

Janie's little mind reeled, backtracking.

"No—"

Bernard's hand flew out, connecting with Janie's cheek with a loud _smack._

"Easy, Bernard," warned Gisela, her eyes reproachful as she eyed her harsh son.

How had such a rough boy been born to such a gentle woman?

"Be quiet, mother!" he shouted, his temper getting the better of him. "Trudy struck me this afternoon, and it is _her _fault!"

"I didn't!" wailed Janie, scuttling back beneath the table as Bernard reached out again.

Such a mean boy.

"You did, you liar!" he hollered, reaching for her. "Come back here!"

"Mama!"

"Bernard!" cried Felicity. Bernard, rounding on the youngest of his father's women, fell short.

Bernard had always had a soft spot for Felicity, ever since she had come into their home and made him a sweet cake.

His mother _never _made him sweets.

"Go back outside with your brothers," she said. "Send Vera and Trudy inside to us."

Bernard frowned at Janie, her little body huddled under the center of the large table, crying. Without a word to anyone else, he turned and slammed the door open, rushing back outside.

"Come Janie-girl," said Felicity softly, reaching under the table for her daughter's hand. Janie took it without question, clutching it as though it would save her from the sting in her cheek.

"Did you tell Trudy to strike Bernard?" she asked sternly.

"No Mama!" Janie lied again. "I swear I didn't!"

"Alright, child," she said, kissing the girl's nose. "Run along and find Alec."

Alec had ventured out of doors once more, and Janie knew her mother wanted him to fetch the platter from the river. Jane found her brother in the carrot patch again, tearing up the orange legumes with vigor.

"Mama says to go inside, Alec," she dictated, pointing to the house. "She wants you." Much to Jane's delight, Alec rose without a word and hopped inside, sliding to a stop just in front of Felicity's feet.

"Yeeesss, Mama?" he drawled, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Go out to the river and fetch the big platter for the meat," she ordered. "Janie, come here."

Trudy was in the corner by the fire, sulking.

"Trudy says you _did _tell her to strike Bernard this afternoon," she began, looking between the two girls. Rosamund's dark eyes flickered between her daughter and Felicity's girl, calculating.

Both were known to lie.

"I _didn't,"_ said Jane vehemently. "Honest Mama, I didn't!"

Felicity turned to Magnatrude.

"You did!" she wailed. "She said that Bernard was bein' mean and that I should strike him!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Janie, are you telling me a falsehood?" asked Felicity.

"No!"

Magnatrude's eyes grew wide as she stared at Jane, mutinous.

"Mama!" she wailed. "Mama, she's a liar!"

"Quiet yourself, Trudy," snapped Rosamund. "Liar or not, you are the bigger girl and you know better than to strike your brother."

Trudy cried again as her mother advanced, ready to dole out her ever-frequent punishment. Janie watched with rapt attention as Trudy's mother whaled her backside, each smack punctuated with a cry.

"Now go find Bernard and apologize," she ordered. "I'll not stand for you acting out."

Trudy shot Jane a mean look before she rushed back outside, her hands covering her bare bottom.

"Here Mama!" cried Alec, returning with the platter in hand. "I got a fish!"

On the supposedly-clean platter was a dead fish, no more than two pounds, slimy and dirty.

"Well done, my boy," praised Felicity, taking both platter and fish. "How'd you get him?"

Alec's three-year-old eyes lit up.

"I whacked him!" he cried. "He was just a-swimmin' by all drowsy-like and I whaled him and killed him, Ma! Can we eat him?"

"Perhaps tomorrow you can have him," said Felicity. She tossed the dead fish in an empty basin. "For now, it is time for dinner."

"Bernard! Otker! Bero! Mama says it's dinnertime!" he called, his high, boyish voice carrying through the field.

"Yeah!"

"Finally!"

"Mamaaaa!"

"I got us some more barley!"

"Can I have some milk?"

"Mama, Alec caught a fish!"

All the children rushed forth and darted right to the table, standing round the hot platter of stewed meat and pot of legumes. Felicity took two small children's hands in her own—Bero's and Janie's—and listened as Bernard said grace. Once the thankful words were said, the children began to dish food onto wooden plates.

"Give it!"

"I want some!"

"Shut up, Vera!"

"Children!" chastised Rosamund. "Bernard is first."

As the acting man of the house, Bernard always got first pick. Proud and satisfied, Bernard snatched the serving cup from his younger brother Ingomer, doling out a portion of food for himself.

"Next is Imnachar," he decreed, handing the cup to the next-oldest boy. The rest of the family watched as the cup passed from Imnachar to Ingomer, down to Otker, then to Bero, reaching Alec last of the boys. Hiltrude was next, as the head of the women, followed by Gisela, Rosamund and Felicity. Audovera went next, followed closely by Magnatrude, and lastly, little Jehanne was served by her mother.

"Eat," said Hiltrude, watching as the boys devoured their meal. Bernard in particular seemed ravenous, reaching onto his plate to grab great handfuls of boar meat and tubers. The broth splashed onto the tabletop, dirtying it even more.

When he finished his stew, Bernard was the first to break into the brick of cheese. He grabbed a great handful and shoved the entirety into his mouth, eating as quickly as he would if a strange, more able-bodied man was threatening to take it from him.

Trudy finished first, leaving her plate behind as she went to the fire to warm her hands. She held them out before her, embers glowing, and Janie watched her with a calculating gaze.

"What are you looking at?" said Trudy moodily, frowning at the small girl.

Jane's brows furrowed together, and returned to her food for just a moment, before excitement broke out once more. Alec, having caught the rudeness in Trudy's voice, turned to reply, but before his young mind could come up with the appropriate words, Trudy lost her footing.

"Mamaaaa!" she wailed, jumping forth as her hand made contact with the red-hot embers in the hearth. Rosamund started, leaping over her smaller son to scoop the child up. Hiltrude also put down her food to investigate, knowing that a burn could turn serious.

"Goodness, child, what made you fall?" asked Rosamund frantically, holding her daughter's blistering hand in her own. Trudy cried, pulling the appendage away from the offending, chilly air, but Rosamund was stronger, and her grip more firm.

"Here," said Hiltrude, procuring a small bowl of water. Without hesitating, Rosamund dunked the small hand into it, earning a shriek.

"It _hurts _Mama!" she cried. "Get it out!"

Alec returned to his food, paying no more attention to the weeping girl.

"We'll need to wrap it," said Hiltrude gently, inspecting the hand by the firelight. "Find me some swatches, Vera."

"Wicked child," hissed Rosamund, turning to face Alec. "What sorcery is this?"

"Rosamund!" cried Felicity, turning her head round to make sure none but the children overheard.

An accusation of witchcraft was very serious.

"The child fell, Rosa," said Hiltrude practically. "No sorcery, just simple clumsiness."

Rosamund's dark eyes lingered on the little boy for a moment longer before turning to his sister, equally cold.

"Your girl is a liar, Felicity, and your son a bully."

"Absolutely ridiculous!" cried Felicity. "Trudy fell, there's nothing more to it."

Rosamund fell silent, her hand clutching the ever-present cross at her hip.

"Come, Magnatrude," she said, taking the child from Hiltrude. Without a word, she carried the girl to the corner, where she lit the candle and began to wrap her hand.

The boys, all having finished their meal, watched the interaction with the rapt attention that was so unique to younglings.

"Run along outside and fetch some more firewood," ordered Gisela, taking their attention away from Trudy's crying. "We'll go cold without it."

Alec was the first one out the door.

**A/N: It wasn't uncommon for everyone (man, woman and child) to go naked in the summer months (which is why Trudy's backside was "bare"). They needed to preserve their clothing.**

**Again, if you're interested in reading more, please don't hesitate to let me know! I don't want to take this down, but the first few chapters are always sort of a trial run, and I need to know how this is sitting with you. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Still not much response, but thanks to those of you who've reviewed. I've almost hit 20! As of right now, I'm aiming for 10 reviews/chapter, and once I hit 30, I'll post chapter 4.**

**Happy New Year!**

Chapter 3

"I'm coming to find you!" called Trudy, turning around from her place at the tree.

Janie hid in the bushes, Alec right by her side, both children silent and still.

"Ingomer, you need to _hide!" _cried Trudy, finding the boy standing right next to her, studying the ground. He turned and blinked at her, clearly disinterested, and continued examining the beetle at his feet.

Even little Janie noticed that Ingomer was different—slower and stupider than the rest of the children. When Trudy scolded him, he just turned back around and kept on with his own interests.

"Stupid boy," muttered Trudy passionately, pushing past him. "I hope everyone else is hiding!"

The mothers were gone to the market and had left Bernard in charge for the afternoon. Bernard had run off chasing a neighbour girl who'd crossed him and because no one was there to direct them, the children were playing.

The cold wind nipped at Janie's feet.

"Janie-girl!" cried Trudy.

Janie giggled, and Alec clapped a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. Trudy passed right by their little bush, taking no time to peek inside. The pair watched as their sister travelled into the trees, seeking out the others.

Bero was the first one found, and his cries of displeasure were heard all the way back at the house. Alec's sneaky eyes followed him as he rushed back to the carrot patch, tossing himself down in a fit of temper.

"Janie?"

"What?" asked Jane, turning to her whispering brother.

"They won't _ever_ find us here," he said. "Maybe we could live here."

"You think?" she asked, excited.

"Why not?" he asked, wiggling. "It's got enough room for the two of us."

"What would we eat?" asked Jane, ever practical.

"Food," said Alec.

"From where?"

"We'll go out and collect at night. No one would see us, and we'd live in here like we were married."

"We can't be married, Alec, b'cause you're my brother," said Jane, rolling her eyes.

"Not _real_ married," said Alec. "Just _like_ we're married."

"You think?" asked Jane again.

"Yeah," said Alec, grinning. "Would you like to live in this bush?"

The chilly wind nipped at Jane's toes and she curled them in, shivering.

"It's kinda cold," she complained.

"We'd catch a big boar and use his hide to get warm," said Alec. "I'd take good care of us."

"You're just a boy," Jane pointed out. "Just three summers…"

"Almost four," Alec protested. Surely three and a _half_ summers was more like four?

"Nuh uh," said Jane. "Only three. I'm older anyways."

"Are not!"

"Mama says so," said Jane triumphantly. "I was borned first, you were borned second."

"I was _made_ first, 'cause I was at the back of her belly," argued Alec. "That makes _me_ older."

Jane fell quiet, thinking.

"I guess so," she conceded, peeking through the leaves once more. She hadn't noticed Vera and Imnachar joining Bero.

"We _gotta_ stay here now," said Alec, "or Vera's gonna make us work."

Jane grimaced, scooting closer to Alec in their hidey-hole.

"I _hate_ working," complained Jane in a whisper. _"Always_ working."

"If we lived here, you wouldn't have to work," bargained Alec. "We'd stay together here and I'd be a big man and make sure you had food and furs."

Jane cuddled into her taller brother's side, resting her head on her hands.

"Was your fish good?" asked Jane, jealous that Mama hadn't let anyone but Alec taste the fish he'd caught in the river some days ago.

"I guess so," said Alec dismissively. "Tasted like a fish."

"I know_ that,"_ hissed Jane, rolling her eyes once more. "I wanted to know if it was a _good_ fish."

"It was a fish, Janie. Just a fish."

Jane let it go, her attention turning to Trudy, who was emerging from the trees behind Otker.

"I win!" cried Otker. "I was the last to be found, and I win!"

"Where's the babies?" asked Vera worriedly, looking right at Trudy.

Alec and Jane smiled to each other, keeping very still and quiet.

_They _would win.

"I don't know," said Magnatrude, shrugging. "I can't find 'em."

"Janie? Alec?" called Vera worriedly. "Come on out now! You've won!"

The pair held hands as they collapsed into silent giggles at Vera's worry.

Vera _always _worried.

"Maybe they got taken!" cried Bero, always fanciful. "Maybe a great big man came and stole them right up!"

"No they did _not!"_ cried Vera, swatting out. "They're still hiding, I reckon, and they're probably scared in the trees. Janie! Alec!"

Neither child moved from their spot, both quiet.

"What's this?" called Bernard, returning from his chase. "Not working? Vera, what did I _tell _you?"

"Not now, Bernard!" cried Vera. "The babies are gone!"

Bernard backtracked quickly, knowing that not only would the women be cross, but if Papa found out, he'd flay him alive. Burchard might not have enjoyed the company of the girl-child, but the boy was one of his own.

"Well find him!" cried Bernard. "How'd you go about losing him?"

"We were playing hide!" cried Vera. "They hid and now they've gotten lost!"

Bernard cuffed Vera on the back of the head, irritated and fearful.

"Alexander!" he called authoritatively. "Come out!"

Alec huddled down deeper into his bush, eyes calculating.

Bernard rushed forth and both children tensed, believing themselves found, but were both relieved when the footfalls of their oldest brother passed right by the hiding bush and into the forest.

The other boys all followed suit, all giving suggestions as to where the children might have gone.

"Perhaps they fell in the pit trap!" called Imnachar excitedly. "Maybe they've fought off a wild boar!"

"Maybe they're up a tree!"

"Maybe they're—"

The suggestions went on.

"Oh Trudy, they're _gone!"_ cried Vera, succumbing to tears.

"Such a girl," laughed Alec, grinning. "Always crying."

"I'm a girl and I don't cry," said Jane proudly.

"You did when Bernard smacked you," returned Alec. "I don't cry, 'cause I'm a boy."

"You're a liar, Alec, and you know it," said Jane. "You cry when Hiltrude scolds you."

Alec's face darkened and he turned away, mood dampened.

"Well, you cry when you're cold, and I _don't," _returned Alec.

"I'm cold now, Alec, and I'm not crying."

"Trudy, how could you let them get lost!" cried Vera. "Oh, Mama shall be _so_ angry!"

"Why will I be angry, Audovera?" asked Hiltrude's stern voice, returning from town. Jane and Alec both watched as Vera jumped to her feet, facing her mother.

She hesitated.

"Out with it, child!" cried Hiltrude. "Where are your brothers?"

"Oh _Mama!"_ wailed Vera. "The babies have been lost!"

"Lost?" asked Gisela. "What do you mean, _lost?"_

"We were playing hide and they've hidden too well!" she cried. "Bernard and the boys have gone to search!"

"Ingomer, come," said Hiltrude firmly. "Where did the boys go and look?"

Ingomer dropped the bug in his hand and turned to his mother, smiling.

"Good gracious boy, come _here!" _cried Hiltrude, ordering him forth. Not understanding Hiltrude's anger, the boy stepped forward with a frown, wide, pale eyes blank.

"In the trees, Mama," said Vera.

"Get inside and warm yourself," said Hiltrude tiredly. "Vera, care for your brother."

Vera, glad to have escaped punishment for the time being, ran inside and ushered Ingomer with her, closing the door with a firm bump.

Jane watched Mama's face as she took in the scene before her, worry growing.

"Mama's scared, Alec," said Jane. "Perhaps we should go out."

"Then we'll have to go to work," said Alec. "I'm staying right here."

Janie didn't want to go without her brother, so she stayed still too.

"Where have they gotten off to?" asked Mama, surveying the yard. "Janie-girl! Alec!"

Both children sensed their mother's disquiet, but both kept still, determined to stay so until after nightfall. Once the dark came, there could be no more collecting.

"We'll find them, Felicity," said Gisela. "They can't have gone far."

"Vera!" cried Bernard's voice from the woods. "Trudy!"

"Bernard, come right this instant!" shouted Gisela noisily, her voice cross. "Come at once!"

Bernard, white-faced and startled, poked out of the trees.

"Come _here_, child, and don't make me ask again!"

Bernard, though he was the top man in the house, rushed to his mother's feet and peered up at her.

His mother took her hand and cuffed him, a sharp pain jolting down his neck.

"What were the instructions I left you?" asked Gisela.

"Oversee the collection."

"And what is it you've done?"

"Nothing!" he said. "I've done nothing wrong! Those _stupid_ babies ran off!"

"Get inside, boy, and don't you tell me falsehoods," said Gisela. "You shall _not _be left in charge of this household again!"

"I'm a _man_, woman, and you can't order me!" he shouted, stamping his foot.

Gisela reached over and cuffed him again, sharper and more precise than before.

"I'm bigger than you, boy, and you will do as you're bid."

Bernard dodged his mother's hand again as it shot out and darted into the house, tears pooling.

"See?" asked Janie quietly. "Boys cry too."

Alec stuck his little pink tongue out at her and returned to the scene playing out before them. As they watched, the rest of the boys returned from the trees and faced their angry mothers, each accepting their scolding without incident.

"Where did you leave them, Trudy?" asked Mama sharply.

"Right there," said the girl, pointing to the carrot patch. "I turned and waited for a while and when I looked again, they were hid!"

"Did you hear them?"

"No ma'am, they were quiet," she said factually. "I thought Vera took them with her."

"Jehanne! Alexander!" called Mama, her voice sharp with worry.

Alec giggled and reached over, plucking a sweet berry from the bush. He rolled it between his fingers for a moment before he turned to Jane, offering it to her.

She ate it eagerly, letting the sweet juice coat the inside of her mouth. Alec reached for another, and Jane's brow furrowed.

"They'll see us!" she whispered. "You're moving them branches, see?"

"They won't see," said Alec dismissively. "I'm sneaky."

Jane was astonished when her mother, who was staring right at their bush, didn't see Alec moving the branch.

"Are we _that_ hid?" wondered Jane aloud, looking to her twin.

Alec just shrugged.

"Maybe it's a magic bush," he offered. "One that hides us kids in it when we don't wanna work."

Jane gasped in horror, looking at the regular-looking bush surrounding her. Magic was an awful thing, she knew, and she didn't want to be called a witch.

"We need out of it, Alec!" said Jane. "Come out right now!"

"Oh I'm just a-jokin' Janie," he teased. "Stay here."

Jane, dubious, stayed where she was.

After a while, Hiltrude, Gisela, Rosamund and Mama ushered the remaining children back into the little home they all shared. They emerged again with furs and fire, all four faces drawn with worry as they took in the darkening landscape.

"Stay to the trails," Hiltrude said. "We can't risk anyone else getting lost."

"Janie! Alec!" called Mama frantically, rushing forward. "Come out!"

"Jehanne! Alexander!" called Rosamund loudly, her sharp voice unusually loud. Hiltrude's voice called out similar words—"come" and the children's names— but neither child moved from their place.

"How long have we been here?" asked Jane wondrously. Her feet were distractingly cold now.

"Probably a fortnight," said Alec dramatically. "Maybe a whole _season."_

"It's only just starting to be winter, Alec," said Jane dubiously. "Not a _season_."

"A fortnight then," he bargained. "Look at us, still healthy and rosy in our fortnight bush."

"It hasn't been a fortnight," returned Jane, annoyed. Alec just shrugged and laid his face down in the dirt, cuddling closer to the ground.

"Lay down and get close to the ground, Janie," he said. "It's warmer down here without the wind." Jane did as Alec suggested and snuggled down, her brother's warmth and the wind-blocking leaves proving him right.

Their hands were still clasped.

"Jane! Alec!" cried Mama's tearful voice from deep in the trees, echoing back. "Babies!"

"Is this really a magic bush?" asked Jane softly.

"Dunno," said Alec. "It might be."

"How do we know?"

"It's hidin' us pretty well, isn't it?" he asked. "Mama hasn't found us out yet."

"Maybe we should go inside now," said Jane, growing fearful of the incoming dark. "The beasts and devils come out at night."

"There's no devils," said Alec practically.

"Are too!" said Jane, a little too loud. "Father Alexander said so."

"Father Alexander's an old coot," said Alec conspiratorially. "He says all sorts of things."

"Alec!" scolded Jane. "He's a holy man! Mama says so! He said _your_ holy words when you were just a babe _and_ you've got his name!"

"Them was good words and a good name," said Alec dismissively. "Those devil-words wasn't."

Jane turned away from Alec, disliking his unfaithfulness.

"Mama says that the priest is always right," she argued. "He's a man of the Holy Church and he speaks to God."

"Does not," said Alec derisively. "That's a girls' trick."

"Is not!"

"Is so," said Alec, closing the discussion. "I'm just a little man and _I_ know that the devil-words are made to scare girls."

"You're a mean boy, Alec," decided Jane.

"No I'm not," he protested. "I've kept you warm in here, haven't I?"

Jane didn't answer.

"You're just jealous because you're not a brother too," he said. "You were born a girl and I wasn't."

"I'm glad to be a girl," said Jane haughtily.

"No you're not."

Jane fell into a frustrated silence.

"Alec! Jane!" called Mama tearfully, her voice suddenly very close. "Oh, where _are_ you?"

"Right here, Mama!" called Alec suddenly, tired of hiding. Jane, startled, scrambled up after her twin, coming face to face with her gaunt, tearful mother.

"Oh thank God!" cried Felicity, rushing forth to snatch up her two found children. "Rosa! Gisela! Hiltrude! I've got them!"

Three women appeared, darting from the trees with their bright fire in hand.

"What in heaven's name…" started Hiltrude, looking about the little yard. "Where were you?"

"Right here in this bush," said Alec with a shrug. "Did I win, Mama? Did me and Janie win at hide?"

"You can't have been in that bush, Master Alec," said Hiltrude gruffly. Jane looked back at the bush and noted, with great confusion, how very small and sparse it looked.

"We were, I swear it," said Alec, crossing himself. "Right there under that bush."

"You're very cold, child, come inside," said Gisela, stepping forth from her place to pick up little chilly Jane. Felicity did the same to Alec, holding them tight as the light, cold snow began to fall, turning instantly to water on the wet ground.

Jane held onto Gisela's neck and pressed closer for warmth, very glad when the kind woman brought her into the bowels of the house, right next to the roaring hearth.

"Oh _babies!"_ cried Vera, rushing forth to inspect her charges. "Where were you _hiding?"_

"In a bush," said Alec, brushing himself off. His dirty hands made streaks down his newly-made winter tunic.

"Which bush?" asked Vera indignantly. "Trudy said she searched them all."

"I dunno which," said Alec easily. "Just a bush."

"Well, are you cold?" she asked. "Hungry? It is far past suppertime now, and you haven't eaten."

"Let the boy breathe, Vera," said Hiltrude gently. "Settle in there, children, and I shall find you some rations."

Jane looked over towards the table and saw the faces of her siblings, all confused and relieved at the same time.

"_I_ want some rations!" cried Bernard sulkily, eying his youngest sister enviously. _"She_ doesn't need rations!"

"She's been outside in the cold all afternoon and has missed the evening meal, Master Bernard, and you will hold your tongue." Gisela's sharp words pierced through Bernard's indignation and he huffed loudly, turning on his heel and retreating to his palette in the loft. Both children were presented with a plate of sparse legumes and more boar meat from the week before.

"Eat and get to resting," said Felicity softly, smoothing both children's hair down flat. "You can wash in the morning." Both Jane and Alec scarfed the food down as quickly as they dared, taking a glass of warm cow's milk before they were dismissed. Felicity saw both children to the small palette they shared by the fireside, ensuring that the furs effectively covered both of them before she retreated.

Gisela and Hiltrude had gone to oversee the nighttime rituals of the other seven children, while Rosamund stayed behind. She had the front window's shutter open, and was peering out into the darkening night air.

Her gaze was fixed on the sparse, easily visible bush.

"It's cold outside, Rosa," said Felicity, closing the shutter firmly. "You might catch a chill."

**A/N: If you're enjoying the story, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I asked for 30 chapters and I got 31. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! **

Chapter 4

Winter hit the village of Vale Piola with great ferocity, and no villager could escape the cold. As the snow came with greater and greater intensity, so did the hunger and sickness. The women and children of Burchard's home all suffered the effects of an absent man, and it was on this particular day that the temperature dipped far below normal.

Janie huddled closer to the dying fire, shivering into her furs.

"Please, Bernard, hand me that wood," said Gisela gently, reaching. Bernard, fearing the howling wind, handed his mother all the wood she wanted, letting her kindle the fire back to life. It was slow and tentative, but Jane was glad to feel the wave of warmth when Gisela succeeded.

Gisela had lost much of her excess weight over the past weeks, and was now just as skinny as Hiltrude. Janie noticed that the woman shook as she worked, and wondered if she was ill.

Jane had a garish fear of illness, ever since sickness had swept through her village to take the lives of many vulnerable children. Her little neighbour friend, Beatrix, was one of the first to fall ill, and her family had been the first in the area to bury a child.

"I'm cold, Mama," complained Bernard. "When's it gonna get warm?"

"When the fire's stoked, child," said Gisela gently. "Come here and hold this."

Bernard held the log Gisela held out to him, and his wide blue eyes studied his mother's actions. He took note of how her hands expertly lifted charred wood, letting in some precious air, but never too much. He saw that she blew gently on the cinders, coaxing the little flame into a higher peak, watching it lick at the uppermost log. Both Jane and Bernard let out a sigh as the hearth began to warm the home, crackling and popping with heightening volume.

Rosamund approached slowly, little Alec in her arms. Trudy and Vera followed closely behind her, both girls rushing to the fireside to warm.

Rosamund placed Alec down next to his twin, smoothing his hair as she did. Alec scuttled closer to his sister, his icy hand meeting hers.

Jane embraced him tightly, glad to have him back. Yesterday morning, Hiltrude had found him coughing, and had rushed him right up to the loft to isolate him from the rest of the children, fearing that he was falling ill. Today, he seemed much better, and had been bugging to return down to the fireside since he awoke.

"The milk's frozen solid," said Felicity, returning from outside. Her feet were white with cold when she peeled the furs away, holding the bottle in her hand. "I've never seen a snow such as this."

"It'll stop soon," said Hiltrude. "It's got to… there's only so much snow in the skies."

"Not if God wills it," said Rosamund quietly. "If God wills snow, snow shall come."

Little Alec looked up at Rosamund and frowned.

"God doesn't will snow, Rosamund," he said.

"Quiet child," scolded Rosa. "He does will snow, and he'll wish that sickness back on you if you cross him."

Alec was a sensible child, but like his sister, he had a terrible fear of illness. Wisely, he held his tongue and let Rosamund continue her lament.

"Father Alexander says the last snow like this was when he was just a boy," she said. "A week later, they burned a witch and the snow stopped."

"There must be a witch then," said Trudy eagerly. "Where's it at, Mama? Shall we burn it?"

"I don't know, sweeting," said Rosamund gently. "If it is God's will for us to burn a witch, then we shall find it."

"It's awful cold," said Trudy. "The river's all icy."

Jane shivered again—with the icy river came no fish for their family to eat.

"We killed the chickens last night, Janie-girl," soothed Felicity, seeing the child's fear. "We'll have food enough for a while."

Ingomer, Imnachar, Bero and Otker came to the fireside in a huddled group, all the furs from the family's palettes in hand. Jane felt a rush of warmth when her mother, taking one from the boys, draped it over her and Alec's shoulders.

Two under the covers always made for more heat.

At their mother's reassurances, Hiltrude's gaze snapped over to Felicity, unspoken words resonating in her brown eyes. Felicity, though young, seemed to understand the words perfectly, but much to Janie's displeasure, the words weren't made clear to her.

Bernard, having fallen asleep, let out a long, drawn-out snore, startling the two younglings.

Rosamund put her cross down and moved to the other women, questioning.

"Later Rosa," said Felicity softly, glancing over at her alert daughter. "Wait until the children fall asleep."

Alec, having heard the words as well, gripped Jane's sleeve and pulled her down next to him, motioning for her to keep quiet. All the other children were already sleeping—no one had slept even a wink the night before, with Alec's coughing and the piercing cold.

The home was silent for some time before Felicity spoke again, her voice urgent and quick.

"Burchard's not sent us any coin," she said. "We have nothing to use at the market."

All the women knew how grave the consequences could be if there was nothing to trade—without a man, the family relied on the winter markets to provide fur and game. Bernard was just eight summers old, and could not be sent out to kill anything larger than a fox. Elk, deer, bear and boar meat was brought in through the markets, which they frequented using gold sent by one of Burchard's men. Sometimes, if it was summer, the women would trade or sell chickens or a rabbit for profit, but wintertime was another story entirely. Every morsel of meat was needed to sustain the family, and couldn't be traded away for furs or winter legumes.

"What's left in the stores?" asked Hiltrude softly. "From last time?"

"Nothing," said Rosamund quickly. "We needed it for the meat."

Gisela sighed, glancing over at the supposedly-sleeping children by the fireside.

"No word as to why?" she asked gently.

"No," said Felicity gently. "Nothing."

The four fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Janie sat up, despite Alec's protests.

"Jehanne," snapped Felicity sharply, walking forth. "You should be sleeping."

The girl peered up with worried eyes, having heard every word.

"What shall we eat, Mama?" she asked sadly.

"We'll manage, child," said Hiltrude, interjecting. "And it's a sin to deceive."

"I didn't deceive!" she protested. "I wasn't sleepin' and no one asked if I was!"

Jane knew her defense was weak.

"What did you hear?" asked Felicity.

"I heard that we got no gold and that there's nothin' for the market," said Jane softly.

"And what do you make of it?"

Jane didn't answer for a moment, her little mind struggling.

"That we can't have any furs or cloth or meat from that market," she decreed. "And we need them furs and cloth and meat."

Felicity sighed and turned back to her fellow wives, displeased.

"Well?" she asked. "What are we going to do?"

At just sixteen summers, Felicity was prone to dramatics.

"We'll wait and see what comes," said Hiltrude sensibly. "No use wailing over it."

Felicity _did_ want to wail, and she was very near tears.

"The _children _need to eat," she hissed. "If they can't eat, there's nothing to be done!"

"We'll figure it out, child, calm yourself!" said Hiltrude. "I'm sure Burchard will send."

Felicity held her tongue, wanting to spew hatred for her husband. When he'd asked her father to marry her, he'd promised him to provide Felicity and their future children with the best he could give.

They should have never been left to freeze in Burchard's cold hut with little food to keep them.

"I'm not hungry, Mama," said Jane softly. "I don't need to eat." The girl didn't like seeing her mother so distraught, and it worried her to see such fear in her big, strong Mama.

"Hush Janie," scolded Felicity. "Quiet yourself and get to resting. Your eyes are red as blood."

Alec's hand poked out of the furs and latched onto Jane's dress, tugging her down. Felicity sighed and her eyes rolled, knowing better than to think either of her twins would ever do anything separate from the other. It was only natural that both should deceive the women together.

"We need no furs," said Hiltrude softly, returning to the matter at hand. "We have plenty of wool from the sheep."

"Wool will do us no good when we're all starving," said Felicity. "We'll die warm, at least."

"Hush woman, and mind your tongue," said Rosamund sharply. "We're faithful women of the church, not heathens to be left out of doors."

"We can't eat the church, Rosa," said Felicity. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Pray."

Felicity's eyes rolled back once again, and she turned instead to Gisela. She was growing tired of Rosamund's praying_._

Praying had done them little good so far.

"I don't know," said Gisela softly. "Perhaps we should find some work?"

"No work for us women, Gisela," said Hiltrude sternly. "Burchard would never have us working at a loom. It would shame him terribly and cast a dark shadow on his name."

"I will not let my children suffer because their father cannot support them," said Gisela firmly. "I will do my part, if need be."

"Then your children will be without their mother," said Rosamund practically. "Burchard won't stand for insolence."

Gisela fell silent, contemplating.

"I know not," she said finally, giving up. "There can be no solution, without our master."

"Beatrix's Papa wants some furs," said Alec quietly.

"What was that, child?" asked Hiltrude.

"Beatrix's Papa wants some furs," he repeated, his voice louder. "For the winter. The other children don't have warm covers for the nighttime."

"We have no furs to spare," said Gisela gently. "We cannot sell what we do not have."

"We have wool," said Hiltrude suddenly, smiling down on Alec. "Enough wool to spare at least half."

Felicity lit up and wheeled around to Alec, rushing to scoop him up.

"Such a smart boy," she praised. "Always my bright boy."

His mother smothered him in kisses, and Alec grimaced, trying to dodge her. When Felicity put him back beside his lightly-slumbering sister, he cuddled down into the deepest reaches of the furs, turning away.

"We shall sell the wool to the Hormund's family next door, and we shall buy game to last us through the winter!" she declared. "My boy has saved us!"

No one contradicted Felicity and as the women began to discuss the logistics of the trade, Alec fell asleep.

Two days later, the snowfall died down. The biting cold warmed into a gentler cool, and once again, the children were able to venture outdoors. On the day that they woke up warm, Vera and Trudy were the first to scramble outside into the snow, marring the sparkling surface as they darted towards the small traps they'd set days before. Though they were buried in snow, the girls found two young rabbits trapped inside, and were heavily praised when they returned home with their plunder.

Prospects improved even more when the women ventured to the hut some ways away, belonging to Hormund and his family. They were greeted by the women of the house before Hiltrude stepped in as acting leader, offering to sell half their wool to the needy family. Though Hormund had limited funds, he readily took what was offered, handing over half his gold in recompense.

Hiltrude's pockets were heavy when they returned home with double what Burchard would usually send. If Burchard decided to send no coin all winter, the family would still thrive on what they had earned this day.

Janie made a snowball and tossed it into the air as her mother passed by, beaming.

"They got the gold, Alec," she said, glancing at her brother. Alec wasn't interested in gold, and dismissed Jane's curiosity with a simple nod.

"We'll get game," she said. "And maybe some more fur."

Alec ignored her, and continued to dig his hole, right until he reached the ground.

"Look Janie," he said. "Mouse."

Alec's hole revealed a dead, frozen mouse, and Jane snatched it up with great animation.

"Mama! Mama!" she cried, excited. "A mousy, Mama!"

Felicity peeked through the shutter, concerned, only relaxing when she saw the rodent in Jane's hand.

"Good, sweeting," she said gently. "Bring it inside and we'll toss him in."

Mama was making stew, and Janie knew that she would use _everything._

"That's my mouse, Janie," said Alec reproachfully. "Give it here."

"Mama wants it," said Jane teasingly, holding it out to him. "You gotta go and give it to her."

Alec scowled as he took the mouse and brought it inside, dejected. He'd wanted to keep it for himself.

Janie made another snowball, using it to fill in Alec's hole. Someone could step in it and be hurt, she thought, then she'd be in trouble.

"Are you finding those traps, girl?" called Gisela from the loft, looking through the wooden slats. Janie jumped up and wheeled around, seeing the green eyes peering back at her.

"No," she said easily. "I'm fillin' this hole."

"Well get to looking, child," said Gisela gently. "Your Mama's looking for more rabbits for supper."

Jane took off through the snow, her short legs getting stuck more than once. The snow seeped into her fur foot-coverings and chilled her feet, though she kept on.

Where the stick-traps would usually be there was only snow- white, soft and untouched.

Jane dove to the left and landed with a plop, using her fur-covered hands to dig down. When she hit the icy barrier, she stripped her hands to use her fingernails to scratch. She was pleasantly surprised when she found the rabbit-carrying trap right where she'd been digging, and she hauled it up.

The rabbit inside was still brown, and Janie knew that he was an old rabbit. It had been nigh on a fortnight—before the snow—that Janie had seen a rabbit that was still brown.

Brown rabbits matched dirt, and white ones matched snow.

There were three more traps strewn about the field Janie stood in, but she was unsure where Bernard had placed them. Scanning the area left her with no clues as to their whereabouts, but Jane was unfazed.

She trumped over to another spot of smooth snow and dug there as well, coming up with the empty trap.

The other two proved more fruitful, and Jane found three more rabbits huddled inside. Disliking the idea of dead rabbits, Janie stroked their fur with her bare hand. They were very soft, and Janie felt sad.

"You're a very good hunter, little one."

Janie's eyes snapped up, startled, and it was then that she finally saw the man. He was unlike anything Jane had ever seen before. Like Rosamund, he had dark hair, but had no hair on his face like she knew her Papa had. He was not fat nor was he skinny, but rather very muscled. Janie saw that the man's white feet were bare, and that he stood knee-deep in the snow. Instead of a tunic and trousers made from nettle-fiber cloth, the man wore a smart-looking jacket and a different sort of bottoms that looked very expensive.

Strangest of all, though, were the man's bright red eyes.

"Who are you?" asked Janie rudely, eying the man with disquiet.

"My name is Morlund," he said easily. "What do they call you, little huntress?"

"Jehanne," said Janie easily. "I live right there."

Morlund looked through the trees and caught sight of Janie's small home, his nostrils flaring.

"It's awfully cold for you to be outside," he noted. "Why are you not in by the fire?"

"Mama needs rabbits," she said, holding the corpse out to the stranger. "She sent me to check the traps."

"You found those traps well under the snow," he noted. "Did you set them?"

"Bernard set them," she said. "Bernard's eight summers old, and he's the man now."

"No Papa for you?" asked Morlund.

"He's north fighting for land," said Janie eagerly. "He's a soldier-man."

"Well, Jehanne," said Morlund softly. "Tell me what else you know of under this snow."

"Nothing," said Jane confused. "I just came to get traps."

"Your feet are going to be cold, child," said Morlund. "You'll be sick."

"Will not," said Jane, unhappy. She couldn't help the instant argument that was imposed by children. "You got no covers at all, and you're not sick!"

Morlund glanced down for the briefest of seconds before he turned back to Jane, intense.

There was no way for the girl to see his feet.

"How do you know what I've got on my feet?" he asked.

Janie just shrugged, craning to peek into the holes his feet had made.

"I just do," said Jane, feeling superior.

"Knowing those sorts of things is dangerous in these parts," warned Morlund. "You should keep your knowing to yourself."

Janie just stared.

"How old are you, girl? Three? Four summers?"

"Three and a _half," _stressed Janie. "I'll be four in the summer."

"Very young," said Morlund gently. "And tell me, girl, do you have brothers and sisters?"

"Yes," said Janie. "There's Vera and Bernard and Trudy and Imnachar and Ingomer and Otker and Bero and my littler twin Alec."

"Eight brothers and sisters?" said Morlund, confusing the girl who knew nothing of numbers. "Very large family for this area."

"Alec and I was twin babies and so was Imnachar and Ingomer."

"I see."

"Alec's my friend," said Janie eagerly. "Beatrix was my friend too, but the sick took her."

Morlund kept quiet, observing the girl with curious eyes. His throat flared with thirst at her proximity, but the child was too fascinating to pass up.

He knew of people who would take great interest in this girl.

"Do your brothers and sisters know where to find the rabbits in the snow too?" asked Morlund, fishing.

"Alec will," said Janie easily. "Alec knows lots of things."

"Your twin, Alec?"

"My _little _twin, Alec," she corrected. "I was borned first."

"Of course you were," he soothed.

Janie beamed.

"Tell me, Jehanne, what else do you know?"

"You got strange eyes," said Jane matter-of-factly. "They're like blood."

"Indeed they are," said Morlund, offering no explanation.

"Are you a devil-demon?" asked Jane. "Father Alexander says there are devil-demons about when children are bad."

"Have you been bad?"

Janie's cheeks flushed and she looked away, wondering if the strange man would strike her.

"I'm late with rabbits and Gisela told me to fetch them," she said. "Gisela's gonna be piping mad."

"Gisela?"

"Papa's second woman," said Janie easily. "Mama was fourth."

Morlund continued to watch, apathetic.

"Well, Jehanne," he said softly, "I suggest you get back to your mother."

"Where are you gonna go?" she asked. "Do you have a home and some women and children too?"

"No, child," said Morlund. "I'm just passing through."

"Where are you going to?" wondered Jane, curiosity burning.

"South," said the man.

"Is it a great place?" asked Jane. "Like the His Majesty's palace?"

"Something like it," said Morlund, laughing. "A large palace owned by a great man."

Janie's eyes were wide and bright, imagination running wild.

"What's it called?" she asked, smiling.

"Volterra."

**Can we make it to 45? Maybe even 50? **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Quick chapter for you! Enjoy!**

Chapter 5

Morlund waited outside the city walls until the skies darkened, and eventually faded down to black. Knowing there was no chance of him being seen by any unexpected human villagers, he knocked four times on the large gate, demanding entrance.

"Who goes there?" called the man. "Announce yourself!"

"I am Morlund, come to pay homage to Saint Marcus," said the traveller.

It was the required words for any immortal coming to see the Brothers.

"Morlund of where?" asked the gatekeeper.

"Morlund of nowhere," said the nomad impatiently. "Morlund of everywhere. What business is it of yours?"

"You speak in riddles, traveller, and it is far past dark."

"Let me in, man," warned Morlund angrily. "I'll not be kept waiting."

The gatekeeper's eyes could be seen through the wooden slats as he took in Morlund's appearance, though thanks to the darkness, his crimson eyes weren't visible. Seeing the suspicious brown eyes peering back at him, Morlund produced a gold coin from his pocket, taunting the man.

"Open up, and it's yours," said Morlund, his voice sweet and tempting. "Let a poor traveller in, why don't you?"

The gatekeeper's eyes widened and he fumbled with the latch, swinging the great gate open to admit his wealthy traveller. The man's hand reached for the coin and Morlund, toying with the idea of keeping it, reluctantly handed it over to the man, letting him inspect it.

"Go on then," said the gatekeeper. "Go pay homage to our saint."

Morlund went without a word, and the man paid him no mind, greedily examining his reward. The great gate slammed closed behind Morlund as he glanced down the narrow, dark road, with little huts on either side.

The great palace of the Volturi Brothers could be seen in the distance, and Morlund wasted no more time looking around. He set off on the winding path to the palace walls, where he would once again be questioned by an ill-suited gatekeeper. Morlund felt the burning at the back of his throat as he passed by masses of sleeping humans, but he resisted his baser urges in favour of walking along.

The Brothers did not take kindly to strangers feeding in their city, especially so near St. Marcus Day celebrations.

The dirty roads led Morlund further and further into the heart of the city, nearer and nearer to the Volturi palace. Morlund saw no rousing humans on his path—all was dark and quiet as he moved, gentle and discreet as a slithering snake at twilight.

His hood hid his face and cast a dark shadow over his eyes, so naturally, once he reached the great gates of the palace, the guard hissed and poised himself for attack.

Morlund knew the boy was young, and had to resist the urge to snarl back, thus putting on a show of hostility that would likely get him killed. He reached up and lowered his hood, trying to diffuse the boy's distrust, and watched as calm overtook him and he stood up straight.

"Can I help you?" he asked, not entirely rude.

"I'm here to speak with the Brothers," said Morlund easily. "I've got information that might interest them."

"Name, traveller?"

"Morlund."

"Morlund…" asked the boy, narrowing his blood-red eyes suspiciously.

"Just Morlund. Aro knows me well."

"Indeed, I hope he does," said the boy dubiously. "Santi!"

Another figure slithered from the darkness and a much bigger, more imposing character stepped forth, eying Morlund carefully.

"Go tell the Brothers, Afton, and see what they've got to say about _Morlund." _He said the name as if it were a curse, and Morlund bit back another growl.

These insolent younglings needed to learn their place.

The smaller one, Afton, rushed forward and disappeared into the bowels of the palace, his footsteps echoing as he moved. Morlund waited with feigned indifference as the boy spoke with his superiors, keeping a close watch on the big boy he could see was very new to this lifestyle. The twitching hands, darting eyes and overall uneasiness were easily recognizable symptoms, though Morlund felt little sympathy for the newborn.

"Calm yourself, child, or you're going to get into trouble."

The boy, Santi, hissed.

"Oh come now, Santiago," came a new voice from the doorway. "You mustn't be so rude to our guest!"

A woman stepped from the shadows of the palace, dark hair curling wildly around her face. She was smiling and cheerful, and though Morlund rarely frequented the palace, he would know her anywhere.

As soon as she took another step, Morlund's suspicions were confirmed and he was met with a wave of contentment and easiness. The little woman before him smiled and reached for the latch on the gate, swinging it open to let him in. She bobbed a little curtsey before she turned to the growling newborn, all smiles and gentleness.

"Santi, come now," she soothed. "You mustn't let yourself get in such a tizzy."

Santiago calmed quickly under the woman's influence, and walked alongside the girl as she led Morlund inside.

"I trust you've got news, Morlund," she said. "Aro's most keen to see you, now that he knows you're here."

"His gatekeepers are a little young, don't you think, Didyme?" he asked. "Rather risky, if you ask me."

"Oh Santi and Afton are months into this life," she dismissed, waving her hand. "Nothing to fear. They're just a little vigilant, is all."

Morlund said nothing, willing his tongue to keep still. They were a little bit more than _vigilant_, in his opinion.

"Oh Marcus, look who we've got with us!" she called suddenly. Morlund looked up and was met with four pairs of red eyes— one pair belonging to the growling newborn and three belonging to the Brothers.

"Yes, my love," said Marcus easily, smiling. "Very good find."

Didyme rolled her eyes at his easy agreement, turning to her brother.

"Such a surprise, Morlund," said Caius, speaking up for the first time. "I trust there's good reason for it?"

Caius had cooled towards Morlund after he'd declined Aro's invitation to join their coven.

"Of course," said Morlund easily. "I was well on my way here to inform you of an uprising in the west—"

"We've already dealt with the uprising in the west, Morlund," said Caius unhappily. "Your news is old news."

"Oh, I've not finished yet," said Morlund easily. "I came across something in my travels that I think might interest you, Aro."

"Oh?" he asked, raising a brow. "Might I take your hand?"

Morlund hesitated for a brief second before he held out his appendage, offering it to the man. As soon as Aro took his hand, Morlund saw his life flashing before his eyes in a series of moving pictures and sounds. From his life as a small boy in Saxony to his current life as a nomad, he relived every joy and sorrow in a few quick seconds.

Then, the memory of little Jehanne and her rabbits came up, and he felt Aro grip his hand a little tighter.

"_Your feet are going to be cold. You'll be sick."_

"_Will not! You got no covers at all, and you're not sick!"_

_Morlund's feet, were hidden by the snow, but he had to glance down again to be sure._

"_How do you know that?"_

"_I dunno. I just do."_

"Interesting," commented Aro quietly, keeping a firm grip on Morlund's hand as more memories played out.

"_Do your brothers and sisters know where to find the rabbits in the snow too?"_

"_Alec will. He knows lots of things."_

"_Your twin, Alec?"_

"_My_ little _twin Alec. I was borned first."_

"_Of course you were."_

Aro's eyes never left the nomads as the memories began to fade off.

_Morlund watched as Jane jumped from spot to spot, knowing exactly where to dig to find her precious rabbits._

"_How old are you, girl? Three? Four summers?"_

"_Three and a _half," _the girl stressed._

"The child seems older," said Aro contemplatively. "Just three?"

"Have you come all the way from Byzantium to tell us of a human child?" asked Caius, obviously displeased. "Are we wasting our time examining the lives of _children?"_

"Hush Caius," said Aro quickly. "This is no regular child."

"And she has a twin," Morlund reminded him. "A smart, equally gifted twin brother."

"Indeed she has," he said, intrigued. "Where did you find such a thing?"

"I just happened to be passing through and she was collecting her rabbit traps," said Morlund. "She found them all under the snow by just _knowing."_

"You told her of Volterra?" he asked, eyes fixated on the nomad's. "What did she think of that?"

Aro knew very well what the girl thought, but he wanted to hear it from Morlund's lips.

"She wanted to know if I was going to a big palace like His Majesty's," he reported with a gentle smile. "She seems a bright, inquisitive girl."

"A _girl _child?" asked Caius scathingly. "Aro, what use do we have for a woman?"

"She is no woman, Caius," he said easily. "Just a small girl with a great gift."

"Humans have no gifts," said Marcus easily. "They're weak."

"Exactly, brother," said Aro. "If this child is in fact gifted, think how useful she will be as an immortal!"

"You can't mean to change her, Aro," said Marcus sternly. "She's a child, after all. You've said so yourself."

"Three summers," supplied Morlund unhelpfully, earning Aro a glare from both of his brothers.

There were strong rules in their world about immortal children, and even Aro dared not break them.

"I want you to go back to her," ordered Aro. "Speak with her and return to me with the verdict. I want to know what that child knows."

"Just go yourself, Aro, and save yourself the suspense," said Didyme gently. "I'm sure your brothers can care for matters here."

Aro looked tempted, but turned to me once more.

"You're sure the child is gifted?" he asked.

"Almost certainly," said Morlund quickly. "She shows promise."

"And she has a twin?"

"So she says."

"Perhaps I shall go," said Aro indecisively. He turned back to me, smiling. "You've done us a great service, Morlund, and your efforts shall not go unnoticed. You shall have your pick from the treasury and we shall ensure you are well fed before you venture back out into our city."

"Thank you," said Morlund automatically, bowing his head in thanks. "You're very kind."

"You're very useful," returned Aro quickly. "Are you sure you won't reconsider joining us?"

"I'm sure, Aro," said Morlund quickly. "I have no desire to be part of a coven."

"As you wish," said Aro wistfully. "You'd do well with us."

"Perhaps," said Morlund dismissively, "but I shall not be happy."

"Oh, brother, I think you'd be very happy," said Marcus, laughing as he pulled his mate in a bit closer.

"Falsely happy," corrected the nomad, nodding in respect to Marcus' wife. "Not something I fancy."

"Well, dearest, if you ever change your mind, we'll be waiting for you," said Didyme with a little laugh, like tinkling bells.

"Thank you."

"Afton will take you to the treasury," said Aro dismissively, "and then you may venture to the feeding room. Thank you for your service."

"Goodbye," said Morlund softly, bowing out peacefully. His eyes snapped to the jittery, anxious newborn as he was led to the Volturi's treasury, where the bulk of their monetary wealth was held.

Morlund was not interested in money, but refusing the Volturi would be a grave, and possibly fatal, insult. The great door swung open and Morlund was led inside, examining the glittering of gold and gems.

"Pick," ordered Afton anxiously, watching the door for thieves.

No one was in the area but us, but instinct always overruled reason in the early days. Morlund found a handsome gold chain and some coin to keep him comfortable on his journey back to Byzantium, and by the time he was done, he was eager for sustenance.

"Just got a new batch last week," said Afton excitedly, nostrils flaring as they approached the feeding room. With mild disgust, Morlund listened to the sluggish, sickly beating hearts in the room ahead of him, the scent of their blood polluted with sickness.

"Have they been kept well?" asked Morlund idly, listening closely for the answer.

"How should I know?" asked Afton. "I'm just here to help."

Morlund noticed that the boy stopped at the end of the hallway, refusing to go any further lest he lose control.

"You go ahead," he said pleasantly. "I'll wait here until you're done, and then I'll show you out."

Morlund turned to the great wooden door and swung it open, the sickly smell of decay hitting him hard.

Around the vast space was strewn a group of people, some lying down, some kneeling in prayer, some already dead from sickness, hunger and thirst. Morlund resisted the urge to recoil when all the eyes in the room snapped to him, fear emanating from them. He turned his head from side to side, surveying his options, and moved in towards a particularly sick-looking girl, no older than twelve—a woman who had undoubtedly started her courses, but in Morlund's eyes, still a child. The girl was very ill and had no concept of time or place, barely reacting at all when Morlund sunk his teeth into her neck, ending her misery.

The others, however, reacted, and Morlund listened with rising guilt as the women wailed and men cowered away. He drained the last of the life source from the cooling girl in his grip and turned to the others, looking for another vassal of tainted, sick blood.

He found it in the form of an elderly man, no doubt pushing fifty, and he quickly and quietly ended that man's pain as well. He laid the limp corpse next to that of the little girl, saying a quick, futile prayer for their salvation before he left the room.

Demons such as he had no hopes of truly talking to God, but Morlund always felt it was worth a try.

"Done yet?" called Afton, impatient. "It'll be light soon, at your rate."

Morlund bit his tongue again and exited the feeding room, catching sight of the red and black eyes of his young guide.

"Come on then," he said with a sigh. "Show me the way, young one."

**A/N: I'm trying for 65 reviews this chapter. Let's see if you can make it happen!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Once again, although I already replied to the reviewer in question, I DO NOT ask for reviews to hold chapters ransom. If you review, great! If not, I'll still update. I ASK for a certain amount of reviews because I appreciate your opinions and constructive criticism. If you have an issue with my chapters, let me know. If you have an issue with how I operate, move on to something else you enjoy.**

**With that said, enjoy the chapter and I apologize for the late update. As I said in _Dark Waltz,_ I've been having internet connection issues and haven't been able to update. I hope you understand.**

Chapter 6

In the little village of Vale Piola in the southern reaches of the Frankish empire, life progressed well. Fields prospered, women were married, babes were born, more grown men went off to war and all the while, little Jehanne and Alexander grew strong and healthy in their little home. The gold from the women's wool sale had stretched over a great span, supporting the family for far longer than it took for Burchard's man to make his way through the unfamiliar lands. The man—more of a lad, really—had come rushing down the path as the snow began to melt, flustered and white with fear at the thought of his master's women and children dead from cold and hunger.

Half the gold was gone, having been used by the unreliable man on his travels, but it was of no concern to the prospering women in the hut.

The family of the poor little Beatrix, the dead girl from the winter just passed, was struck with a most fortunate blessing as the warmer months began to take hold. Just as Janie and Alec came into their fourth summer, a boy-child was born to Hormund's woman. His first son, a hearty, healthy son, for a most deserving family. Little Beatrix was all but forgotten in light of the new birth, and the dark cloud that had settled over Hormund's home over the cold months lifted as the cries of the newly-born babe sounded clear through the field.

Janie knew not what they called the child, and she didn't care to ask. In her opinion, Beatrix had been forgotten much too soon, and she wasn't nearly as pleased with the new boy-child. Janie remembered Beatrix—a little friend with striking red hair like Hiltrude and a gentle, soft disposition that not even Janie could find fault with. She'd been kind to them during the field gatherings, she'd shared her stem-rope and she'd taught Janie the new church-song sung in Latin, though neither child knew what the words meant.

Janie missed her friend, and her bitterness spilled over as the tending of the little grave at the edge of the trees was abandoned in favour of making little cloth swatches for the stupid new boy.

Beatrix, she knew, would've loved a baby to tend, but even with that thought in mind, Janie couldn't reconcile herself to the idea. She only hoped that _her_ family was done with babes—she didn't want a screaming, wailing _baby_ to mind.

"Oh, Hormund's son is his father's son indeed," groused Gisela, laughing as the babe's incensed cries sounded clear through the field, right into Burchard's hut.

Janie scowled and kept her head low, peeling the hard outer shells from the seeds in the basket. The ground was warm underneath her, and she wished she was out in the sunshine with her brothers and sisters.

"Quit it, Bero!" cried Bernard, angry. "Give it here!"

Janie heard the familiar sounds of Bernard's frequent and unrelenting abuse, and Bero cried out in protest.

"You stop it!" countered Bero. "Mama!" Gisela sighed and shook her head at her son's violence, but continued scouring the tabletop instead of intervening. Hiltrude was the one who grew tired of the charade and marched right out the door, leaving it open for Janie to see.

She watched as Hiltrude snatched Bernard up from his place on top of Bero, giving him a sound spanking right outside where the neighbour-kids could see. Janie watched with grim satisfaction as his face flamed red with embarrassment while some older neighbour boys laughed. Janie heard their cruel taunts and found herself growing more and more pleased, wondering if Alec was close enough to have heard.

She knew in her heart that he was, and as Hiltrude ordered Bernard into the woods for some larger game, she felt a pang of giddiness that she knew Alec felt too.

"Mama?" called Janie, glancing around the stool to see her mother's legs. Felicity's gown was ragged and torn, and Jane knew that if her father sent more coin, her mother would be properly clothed.

"Yes, sweeting?" said Felicity absently, turning to her little daughter on the floor.

"Might I go outside yet?" she asked. "It's awful hot inside."

"It's hotter outside, girl, you'd be best to stay indoors," said Hiltrude gruffly, returning through the doorway. "Your brothers and sisters are fine where they are."

"I want to go too," said Jane sadly, eying the large pile of grains that still needed peeling. "I don't want to sit here by myself."

"You're to sit there and do as you're bid," said Hiltrude warningly. "You're too small to be out in that heat."

"Alec's out in the hot," argued Jane. "He ain't too small."

"Alec's a big strong boy," said Hiltrued pointedly. "You're a little girl."

"Vera and Trudy are out there!" she wailed. "They're just girls too!"

"They're big girls," said Hiltrude. "Trudy's just as old as Bernard and Vera's a summer older."

"I'm four summers," argued Jane. "It'll be cold again soon, and then I'll be five, and then six…"

Janie knew of numbers now, after the strange red-eyed man had spoken with her in the snowy field.

"Yes, girl, but not yet," said Hiltrude. "Do as you're bid and shell those bits."

Flooded with resentment, Janie began to pick away more shells from the seeds. It was birds' work, she thought, and if Hiltrude wanted her seeds shelled, she'd do better to employ a pigeon.

Janie was a girl, not a bird.

The day wore on and eventually, Jane had finished shelling the bowl of seeds. She handed them to Hiltrude with a derisive pout on her little face, most displeased and foul-tempered.

"Take that sour look off your face this instant, girl," warned Hiltrude, "or you'll be whipped and sent straight to sleep."

Janie turned on her heel and stood in the corner, out of the way and not bothersome, but pouting nonetheless.

If she'd been looking, she'd have seen her mother's warning glance, but in her temper, she was unobservant. She would've also seen the angry flash in Hiltrude's eye at her disobedience, and the incoming repercussions she was about to face.

"You're a saucy girl, Jehanne," barked Hiltrude, advancing. "I'll teach you what happens to ungrateful girls."

Janie's big, blue eyes widened as Hiltrude advanced and she tried to step away, finding that the corner was more of a prison than a safe haven. Hiltrude's hand was heavy as it came down, leaving an angry, red mark on the girl's cheek.

"You mind your tongue, child, and keep your temper to yourself," she warned, pointing a great, calloused finger in the girl's face.

That hardened finger seemed to light a spark, and all in an instant, Janie felt a feeling so big, she couldn't hold it in. Jane saw red.

Hiltrude caught the child as she yowled and scratched like a cat, her little nails bared like cat's claws. She scratched and bit and kicked as Hiltrude lifted her from the ground, astonished and alarmed.

"Gracious, the girl's gone mad!" she cried.

"I hate you!" cried Janie, reaching with all her might to return the favour. "I hate you!"

"Janie!" cried Fleicity, alarmed and disappointed. "Come now, girl…"

"I _hate _you!" cried Janie again, her foot striking Hiltrude in the middle with astonishing strength. The woman grunted and doubled over, dropping the girl to the ground where she picked herself back up and continued her assault. The screams and hollers had attracted the attention of the other children, all of whom gathered in the doorway to watch the spectacle. Jane's fingers clawed at Hiltrude's face as she struck out, the older woman crying out and trying to dislodge the girl.

"Mama!" cried Imnachar worriedly, rushing forth to grab Janie around the middle. Imnachar was a kind boy, a gentle boy, and although he didn't pay much mind to his smallest sister, he had never been unkind to her.

"I _hate _her!" cried Jane again as Hiltrude's son pried her away. Hiltrude jumped up with irate indignity as the girl was dragged out the door, turning to Felicity as she mopped the weeping scratch on her cheek.

"You're girl's run mad!" she shouted. "Absolutely mad!"

"You should not have struck her," reproached Alec suddenly, eyes blazing. "She was right to strike you back."

"You hush up right now, Master Alec, or you'll get the same slap as she did!" shouted Hiltrude. "Get out!"

Alec, thinking carefully, turned with a blank visage and exited the home. Rosamund, quiet and concerned, saw the boy rush off to the trees to where Imnachar had carried the raging girl, no doubt concerned for her welfare.

_Like one, like two,_ she thought, wondering when it would be Master Alec's turn to rage against authority.

"Are you alright, Mama?" asked Vera fearfully, watching her mother with careful eyes. She took some steps nearer, a wet cloth in hand, and gave it to Gisela, who oversaw the tending of the wounds.

"That child needs proper rearing, Felicity," said Hiltrude angrily. "Such a girl won't ever fetch a husband if she's prone to rages like that."

Felicity kept quiet. Janie was a passionate girl, that was certain, but she'd never seen the child as angry as she was today.

"Shall I go and fetch her, Mama?" asked Vera softly. "Maybe she'll listen to me."

"Do as you please, child," said Hiltrude heavily. "Let the child calm before you bring her back."

"Yes Mama," she said quickly. "I'll be sure she's gentle."

"She should be whipped ten times over for that spectacle," said Rosamund in a huff, looking at Felicity accusingly. "She'll never learn if she never feels the bite."

"She's just a little girl," said Felicity, alarmed. "Surely she shouldn't be whipped?"

"Trudy and Vera were whipped when they were just three summers, and they've been all the better for it," said Rosamund. "That child's never been whipped and she's nothing but willful."

"She's too little yet," fretted Felicity. "I can't whip her."

"I sure could," growled Hiltrude. "I'll have the raising of that girl, if she keeps on as she is."

Felicity reared up protectively, unwilling to hand her child over to Hiltrude. The eldest woman was known for her heaviness of hand and generous use of the whip.

"She's my girl, Hiltrude, not yours," reminded Felicity. "She'll be raised as I see fit."

"She'll be raised as Burchard sees fit," said Hiltrude. "Burchard, though he wished for a boy, is nothing but pleased with Vera."

"Vera is a kind girl with a gentle spirit!" protested Felicity. "Janie's a passionate girl."

"Vera's gentleness came from the strap," said Hiltrude. "Not from her parents."

Felicity remembered the sharp bite of the strap on her flesh from when her father had strapped her, and she wished nothing of the sort on her own children. The thought of Jane on the receiving end of such a brutal punishment made her cringe, but as the head of the household in Burchard's absence, there was nothing aside from direct disobedience that Felicity could do.

When Hiltrude opened the door, the angry scratches on her arms and face were plainly visible, and made even more vivid by her pale complexion.

"Vera!"

"Here, Mama," said the girl, emerging from the field with her smallest sister in tow. Alec followed close behind, watching Jane very closely.

When he saw the strap in Hiltrude's hand, his lips curled into a snarl and he tugged Jane away from Vera.

"Come here, girl," said Hiltrude angrily. Janie, having let all the fight out of her, saw the strap and began to cry, trying to hide behind her taller twin.

"No," said Alec, answering for her. "You'll not strike her."

"I'll do as I please, boy, and you'll be next if you keep her from me."

"I'll get you while you sleep, woman," threatened Alec angrily. "You struck her first."

"I am a grown woman, and she is a child," she argued. "Give her here."

"No."

Hiltrude, beyond angry, rushed forth and shoved the boy aside, snatching Janie by the arm. Vera gasped in surprise and watched as her mother dragged the girl to the side of the home, shoving her against the wall. Though it was hot, Janie still wore her dress on this day and Hiltrude, without one semblance of dignity, tore the dress from the girl's body and tossed it aside, reaching for the leather strap on the ground. Bernard peeked through the trees to watch with sick delight as the strap came down on Janie's backside, striking with ferocious vigour.

Janie cried and screamed and squirmed in her attempt to evade the strap, but only when she'd received ten licks did Hiltrude let her go, handing her the discarded dress once more.

"Dress yourself and get to collecting," she ordered in a calm monotone. "No more of that fighting."

Janie just cried, scrambling back into her dress with flaming cheeks. Alec, flushed with anger, stepped forth to help her up from the ground, scrambling to the back of the fields.

Felicity was waiting for Hiltrude in the home, watching with wide, reproachful eyes as she hung the strap on a protrusion on the wall.

"I daresay that'll knock the fight out of her," she said.

"Amen to that," said Rosamund piously, crossing herself before returning to her sewing.

Felicity said nothing, but the resentment bubbled just under the surface. If Burchard had been home, he wouldn't have let Hiltrude whip such a small child as Janie. He would've protected his girl from such malice.

Even in her own mind, the words sounded false. Burchard had no care for his girls.

ooOoo

"You'll feel better later, Janie-girl," said Alec in a gentle voice, trying his very hardest to soothe his distraught twin.

Janie cried and cried in the field, laying face-down in the dirt so as not to put any undue pressure on her sore, raw backside. She wouldn't sit comfortably for nigh on a fortnight, he thought, and he felt very sorry for it.

"Go sit in the cool water," he suggested, pointing her to the river. "It's awful nice when you got a hurt."

"No," she moaned, shaking her head. "I hate her."

"I know," said Alec softly, plunking down next to her. "I know."

"I wanted outside!" she wailed. "I wanted to help!"

"You should've just come," he said sadly. "Then she wouldn't have whipped you."

"She would've whipped me _twenty _times then," she argued. "She's gone stark mad!"

"I hate her…" she moaned again. "Hate, hate, _hate_ her."

"I know."

"I want to leave," she griped. "I _hate_ this house."

"Someday, Jane."

"I wish she would go away too," said Janie sadly, her angry ramblings

"Lord have mercy!"

Both children turned to the source of the sound, ears piqued like a hunter on the prowl.

"Mamaaaa!"

"Trudy, fetch the priest!"

"I'll get him, mother!"

"Bernard, no!" cried Gisela worriedly. "Come here, child!"

"What's happening?" asked Janie. "Do you know, Alec?"

"No."

Alec helped his sister up, dusty and dirty from the ground, and the two dashed as quickly as they could (Jane moving much slower than usual), back to the family's home.

Bernard had a small scabbard at his waist with a small stone dagger at the ready, brandishing the weapon at the trees. The women, minus Magnatrude who had rushed to the parish, stood in a flutter of disarray. The neighbour men appeared from their doorways, brandishing swords and spears much bigger than Bernard's, all calling out for holy guidance.

"What has happened, Mama?" asked Alec, Jane's hand securely in his own. "What's going on?"

"Get inside, babies," she urged gently. "Quickly now."

"No," protested Alec. "What's happened?"

"There's a specter in these trees, child, and I fear he might be here for snatching."

Alec had the good grace to look astonished and fearful, but Janie knew very well that he felt no fear.

"A specter?"

"Yes boy. Get inside with your sisters and be as quiet as you can be."

Alec nodded to his mother in a display of complete obedience, and moved to Vera, taking her hand in his empty one. Like a good brother, he led both girls into the home and barred the door behind them, peeking through the shutter.

"No Alec," said Audovera worriedly. "It might see us!"

"It won't," he assured. "I promise, it won't."

"What is it?" asked Janie, her painful backside all but forgotten. "What did they see?"

Vera kept quiet and didn't answer, but peeked through the slit in the small window alongside her brother.

Janie was too short to see, but when Alec stepped aside to let her peek out, her gaze was immediately drawn to the west.

As the sun began to set and the light began to dim, Janie's eyes glued to the darkest hole in the trees.

Staring back at her was a pair of bright red eyes, belonging to a pale-skinned, dark-haired, unfamiliar man.

**A/N: So, in spite of my disgruntled reviewer, I'm asking for 75 reviews. That's fifteen more than the story has right now.**

**Again, because of internet connection issues (we have a sketchy ISP, and they're having technical issues all the time), I'm not sure when the next update will be. I hope it will be soon.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Enjoy the next instalment. I haven't had the time to edit yet, so please feel free to point out any errors you encounter.**

Chapter 7

_Spring, 806 AD_

The snows had melted in the village and the trees were in bloom once more. The plants that had died with the onslaught of cold were revived from their places on the ground, flourishing and growing once more. As spring came in, the children of Vale Piola could be seen strewing seeds and carrying in buckets of water from the river. Fields were watered, food was harvested, game was hunted and summer traps were set. Bernard, now ten summers old, was sent out with a long spear with one of the village's older boys to learn to hunt large game.

That very same night, Bernard had returned to the village with a dead doe, ripe for butchering.

"Quite a fine man you'll make," his mother had cooed. "Good boy."

Bernard flushed red with the praise, torn between his pride and embarrassment at being coddled by his mother.

Surely such big boys as him should be called men?

Janie and Alec spent a good year together. After the sighting of the strange demon-creature in the trees so long ago, the town had been on red alert. Everyone, especially the youngsters, were encouraged to bring a brother or sister whenever they went out.

Janie and Alec took full advantage of that new rule, and spent every possible moment together. This spring, as the stems of the new plants began to spring up, Janie was proud to say that she felt certain she'd be able to reach the top come autumn.

"You've got tall, Janie," said Alec approvingly, measuring Jane's height against his own. He pressed his hand to the top of her head and drew her in close, making a quick line from her head to his chin.

Still shorter, but taller than before.

"You're taller," she sulked. "But you're a boy."

Janie had always held a peculiar pride in her sex.

"Better a boy than a girl," said Alec with a grin. "You're just a girl."

Janie ignored him, the argument feeling very old. The two of them were nearing five summers now, and such arguments should surely be left to little children.

Janie and Alec were very big now, and should focus on bigger things.

"You'll be married soon," teased Alec, knowing just where to poke. "Married to some old man."

"Will not," hissed Janie. "I'll _never_ be married."

Alec just laughed at her.

"Jane! Alec!"

Their mother's voice sounded clear through the field, and both light-haired heads turned to look. Their mother stood in the door of their home, her hair tied back and a basket in hand.

"Market time!" cried Janie, excited. "Mama promised we'd go!"

Alec dropped his basket of seeds unceremoniously in the field and took off at a run, his long legs carrying him much faster than Jane's short ones.

"Is it time to go, Mama? Shall we set out?" Alec's voice was high and excited

"Yes, dearest," laughed Felicity. "Come along, Janie-girl."

Jane made it to her mother with flushed, pink cheeks and bright, excited eyes. She took her mother's proffered hand and clutched it tight, earning a small laugh from the older woman.

"Alec, you hold on to Janie's other hand," she said softly. "We can't have anyone getting lost at market."

Janie and Alec had only ever been to the market once before, when they were just little babies. All three women had ventured out that day, and they hadn't quite trusted Vera and Trudy to care for the little ones.

Trudy, after all, was willful and headstrong, and Vera, as kindhearted as she was, was unskilled in the art of childcare.

Janie had heard stories of the market from her sisters and brothers—she'd heard about all the wonderful things they sold, precious rocks and cloth from Byzantium. Janie didn't know what Byzantium was, but she knew it was where the great men lived with their gold and riches. Janie wanted to see if her mother would let her have a piece of cloth from the merchants, or maybe a small stone.

Alec wanted to see the great horses that pulled the carts. Alec had been told that his father had a great horse, but as he was away at war, so was his big horse. The neighbour-men didn't have big horses to pull carts, only long-haired, ugly ponies. Alec wanted to see if a great nobleman would let him pat the great horse, and perhaps, when he was grown, Alec would have a horse of his own.

Hold tight to my hand, and mind you don't get in the way of the carts," said Felicity gently. The trio set off down the dusty, muddy road, riveted by the wheels of the carts and the horse's hooves. Janie played a hopping game down the road, making it her goal to travel all the way to market without stepping on a single stone. Her little legs leapt up in the air when she came upon them, her mother aiding her with a strong lift of her hand.

Janie was thrilled, and Alec soon joined in.

"Hop!" she cried, prompting four little legs to leap. "Hop!"

Market was quite a ways from their home, as the children had been told, and after a while both grew weary. Janie was the first to stop Hop!, Alec following soon after. Both children began to drag their feet through the dirt, earning a gentle scolding from their mother, and by midday, both were filled with complaints.

"It's _hot,_ Mama," lamented Jane. "How far's market?"

"We're nearly there now, sweeting," soothed Felicity. The midday sun shone down brightly on their exposed heads.

"Will there be merchants?" asked Alec quickly. "Great men from the cities?"

"There will be merchants," said Felicity gently. "I'm not sure about great men."

"Great horses?" he asked.

"Perhaps."

"What about gold, mama?" asked Janie. "Shall we see more gold?"

"I daresay you shall."

"And jewels? And fine cloth and precious stones?"

"Goodness, child," laughed Felicity softly, squeezing the little hand. "You're very fanciful."

"Am not," sulked Jane. "Trudy and Bero said there was fine jewels and stones and cloth."

"There may be cloth," agreed Felicity gently. "And perhaps some rare stones, but those are for the great men they'll meet later on."

Janie, not understanding, watched with a blank gaze.

"We'll not be getting anything costly," said Felicity bluntly. "We'll be getting some more furs, some seeds, and perhaps some grain from further south."

Janie's protests were cut short when she glanced up, hearing the medley of voices and the smell of animals.

"Look Alec!" she cried, releasing her mother's hand to dart forth. "Market!"

"Jane!" cried Felicity, rushing forward with her small son to snatch the girl's hand. A light slap to the top of it reclaimed Jane's attention, and she turned to her mother, questioning.

"What, Mama?"

"You hold my hand, girlie," she reprimanded. "Hold tight and don't let go."

"Sorry."

Felicity held the hand firmly, ensuring Alec had the other side.

"Keep close now, darlings, and don't you go rushing off alone."

Janie held tight to her mother's hand, bouncing on the balls of her feet as excitement overtook the exhaustion. Alec, nearly as excited as his sister, pulled insistently as Felicity led the way, slow and steady.

"Oho, lookie-here!" cried a strange, fur-clad man, pointing at their mother. "Care for a thumpin', Beautiful?"

Felicity, ever proper, had the decency to look affronted as she pulled her two small children closer, and rushed away from the jeering man, crossing herself as she did.

The two younglings, not quite understanding, did the same.

"Come along, sweetings," said Felicity gently. "There's the fur cart." The two children glanced up and saw a great man with his woman, a cart full of pelts beside them. The woman, much like her husband, was work-hardened with a large, ruddy face and snarling hair.

Janie thought she looked quite like a witch.

Alec whispered to his sister, teasing the great woman as their Mama made the transaction, leaving some gold with the couple in exchange for three new pelts. Janie couldn't help her giggling as Alec commented on the woman's enormous girth, announcing that he thought that woman would eat them both right up, if given the chance.

"Hey girlie!"

Felicity turned around, pulling both children with her as the man—the jeering man—called her out again.

"Burchard's quite the scoundrel, leaving such a pretty lady all alone," he said. Janie noticed his staggering gait and slurring words, and was almost sure that this man had been indulging in spirits.

Or maybe he was of the devil. She couldn't be certain.

"I'll take my leave now, sir," said Felicity with great certainty. "My sons are expecting me back."

"Your son's at your side, girlie, and the oldest is still a boy," he said. "I'll give you another son."

"No, I daresay you won't," she said. "I am a good and faithful wife."

The man laughed drunkenly, and Janie shrunk back.

"A good wife!" he chortled. "And what about you, eh?"

Janie felt his eyes on her, and she shrunk back.

"You leave Janie alone," snipped Alec. "And my Mama."

The man roared with laughter, and reached out to ruffle his hair. Alec cringed away from his offensive hand and dusted himself off, taking his mother's hand firmly in his own. Both children were quite affronted when this strange man snatched up Felicity's free hand, tugging her forward.

"Unhand me!" she cried, gaining the attention of more than one patron. Even the people being sold as workers on the makeshift platform turned to look.

"Corshan, unhand that woman!" called another man. "That be Burchard's wife!"

"Burchard ain't here to make much use of her," he protested. Jane held tight to her mother's skirts, hiding her face away.

This man frightened her, and she wanted to leave the market now. Alec, willing himself to be bigger, shoved against the offending _Corshan, _wishing he was stronger.

"Unhand her!" cried another man.

"Give her leave!"

"Cease!"

Men throughout the village, especially those loyal to Burchard's cause, rushed forth to be of assistance, all knowing exactly what Corshan intended.

He would take the girl back to his hut and have his way with her, and then she'd be spoiled.

"Lord have mercy!" cried Father Alexander, having come to market for some grain. He saw the scene erupting before him and crossed himself intently, bowing his head in prayer.

"Mama!" cried Jane, seeing Corshan tug her forth. Jane stumbled as her mother was wrenched away, and she fell into the dirt.

"Mama!"

"Unhand me!"

"_Mama!"_

"Janie!" cried Alec, reaching down to tug his sister to her feet. Their mother shouted and cried out as this strange, large, intoxicated man groped at her. Village men came rushing forth, some grabbing at Corshan and some trying to pry Felicity from his thick, strong grip.

"Mama!" cried Janie, her little voice carrying through the din. "Mama!" She tried to rush forth, determined to be of help, but Alec held her back. Before either child could be trampled and killed, two large, meaty hands reached out and pulled them away.

The great fur seller's wife had them hidden behind the fur cart, and as the sight of their mother disappeared, Janie began to cry.

"Mama!"

"Unhand her! Heathen!"

"Treason!"

"Hang him!"

"Mama!"

"Hush, child!" said the great woman. "Your mother's just fine."

"MAMA!"

"Janie?" asked Alec, turning to face her. Jane's eyes were wide with fear as she thrashed against the seller-woman's grip.

"_MAMA!"_

"Easy there, child," said the great woman. "Easy…"

Jane continued to struggle against the woman's grip, every part of her wanting to rush forth to her mother.

Her mother might be dead, for all she knew, and she couldn't let that happen.

"Someone fetch the priest!"

"Someone fetch an axe!"

"_MAMA!"_

The woman's grip suddenly went lax, and Jane took the opportunity to sprint forth.

Before she could reach the end of the furs cart, she felt a new pair of hands at her sides, lifting her clear off of the ground. She cried and resisted again as men rushed to and fro, chaotic and panicking.

"Easy, little one," crooned a new voice. Janie, startled by the sound of a man, snapped her head around and took a close look at her new captor.

She saw the still form of the great seller's wife on the ground, face down in the dirt. That, despite it's strangeness, was soon thrust from her mind as her eyes met those of a new, pale man.

The _red_ eyes of a pale man.

"Easy, now," he soothed again. Alec stared at the man in wondrous awe as he placed Jane down on the ground, confident she'd stay put. Her little, dusty hands went to her cheeks and she wiped the tears, her eyes never leaving this new man's.

"Your mother is fine," he said gently. "Just a little cut…"

His eyes got darker, Janie noticed, and she stepped back.

"You spied in the woods," she accused. "You're the devil-demon!"

The man assessed her with astute, studious eyes before he turned to her brother, equally curious.

"Not a demon, little one," he cooed gently.

Janie continued to stare, wondering if he had killed that poor, big woman.

"Is she dead now?" she asked, turning to see the corpse. "Did you kill her?"

"She's gone with God," said the man. "There's nothing to fear."

"You gonna kill me too?" asked Jane idly.

"No," said the man. "I'll wait until you're a little older."

"Then you'll kill her?" demanded Alec. "I say, you _are _a devil!" The red-eyed stranger watched with great amusement as little Alec rushed forth and crashed into his knees, his little fists banging away.

"You'll only harm yourself, young man," he warned.

"I'll kill you first!" cried Alec.

"I'll not kill her, boy, calm yourself," scolded the man. "She shall be great."

Alec stopped for a moment and pushed Janie behind him, determined to protect her from what he saw as a terrible danger.

"And so shall you," he added gently. "If you prove yourself worthy."

Alec just scowled at him and turned back to the chaos in the marketplace, looking for his Mama. _She'd _make this heathen leave.

"Where's my Mama?" asked Janie sadly. "Where'd she get to?"

"One of the women is wrapping her hand," he said easily. "She's just there."

Janie saw only the top of her mother's yellow head, but that was enough to reassure her for the time being.

"Has that man hurt her?" she demanded. "Is she very hurt?"

"She has a cut, and maybe some bruises, but nothing lasting."

"Who _are_ you?" demanded Alec rudely, eying this strange, intelligent man from head to toe. "How'd you come to be here?"

"Who are _you, _young man?" countered the stranger quickly. "How did _you_ come to be here?"

"I'm Alec, and I was borned to my Mama," he said practically. "And my sister's called Jehanne."

"Well, Master Alec," said the stranger. "my name is Aro."

"That's an awful strange name," said Alec suspiciously. "Where'd you come from?"

"Far away," said Aro gently. "Farther than you could imagine."

"From Byzantium?"

"Perhaps not so far," laughed Aro gently. "I come from the south."

"Janie! Alec!"

"Go on," said Aro gently. "Go to your mother. I'll see you again, I daresay."

Janie didn't hesitate, and rushed right out from behind her cart and into her mother's embrace. Alec walked out at a gentle pace behind her, looking very intently for any signs of injury.

His Mama's arm bled through the wrapping and her eye was darkened with a bruise. Alec, being the man of the group, felt the intense sting of failure, and turned to find the culprit.

He'd show _Corshan_ what became of men who assaulted his mother.

He found the man seated on a log, hollering up a storm as Felicity quickly gathered her furs and her children. She quickly purchased grain and seed from another merchant before she moved to take Janie's hand, determined to leave this place.

Alec noticed the red-eyed stranger, _Aro_, watching from the sidelines, unnoticed by any of the others as he approached one of the big horses in the yard. The horse whinnied as Alec's little hand connected with it's flank, gently stroking the silky, black fur.

"Alec! Away from that beast!" cried Felicity, reaching out for him. He did as he was told and stepped back from the horse, taking Felicity's hand.

The horse whinnied once more and pulled against its ropes, tugging the cloth cart forward. Alec watched with mild trepidation as the horse, once docile and gentle, began to stamp.

"Away!" cried a man suddenly. "Away!" As the words were shouted, Felicity watched in horror as the horse broke clear of its holdings, and took off at a run. Panicked merchants and vendors flew in all directions to avoid the clambering hooves, and many took their children away to the sides.

Janie and Alec, frozen in place, watched as the horse rushed through the market, trampling carts and overturning baskets. Men cried out and shouted orders as they tried to rein in the massive beast, having very little success.

A terrible, guttural cry broke through the noise, and every person within hearing range turned to look. The horse, having been frightened, had kicked out its back legs, one massive hoof colliding with a man's head.

_Corshan's_ head.

The man fell to the ground with an unceremonious thump, his head bouncing back as the horse ran for the nearby trees. A group followed after the deranged animal on the backs of their own steeds, while more men flocked to Corshan's unmoving body, turning him over.

"Lord have mercy," said Felicity, aghast. Janie saw with mild amazement that the man's face was pushed right into his head, and that there was a great amount of blood. She knew then that the man was gone, and she crossed herself quickly, as Rosamund had taught her.

Felicity followed suit, bowing her head in prayer for the fallen soul but Alec remained still.

_That's _what happened when men attacked his Mama.

"Come on," he said softly, tugging Felicity's hand. "It's time we got back home."

**A/N: Things are starting to pick up a bit now. I hope you're still on board.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I apologize once again for the late submission. I'll try to update more frequently in the near future. Things have been very hectic lately. Please be aware that there is some ABUSE in this chapter that might bother some readers. I'll try to update Dark Waltz this weekend.**

Chapter 8

Winters grew to become Janie's least favourite time of year.

"I'm _hungry,_ Mama," she complained, tugging on Felicity's sleeve. "Just a bite?"

"No, girl, go and make yourself useful."

Felicity was at the end of her patience, having shooed both younglings away more than once on this afternoon. The food, once again, was scarce, as Burchard had failed to send coin.

Hormund's family wasn't in need of wool this season, either.

"But _Mama!"_

"Out, Jehanne!" shouted Felicity. The mother felt the familiar pang of pity as her little daughter's face crumpled, and she succumbed to tears. Two days with little to keep them, and even the most stoic of children would break down. Janie wasn't a girl known for sniveling tears, but as it were, the child was hungry, unhappy and cold.

"Go sit by Vera and the fire," she instructed gently, using her hand to gently urge the girl onwards. Felicity knew full well what happened when children as little as Jane went hungry for too long, and felt the sickening pang of fear when she felt Jane's bony back through her dress.

Too thin, she knew, but what was she to do?

"Vera, why didn't our father send coin?" asked Janie sadly, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She plunked herself down unceremoniously next to her oldest sister and snuggled close, relishing the comfort of a heavy, familiar body.

"Dunno," she shrugged. "Perhaps he's been killed."

"He ain't!" cried Jane indignantly. "You're just a liar, you are."

"Hush, Jane," she scolded. "I'm the older."

Janie fell mutinously silent, Vera's warmth no longer as comforting.

"Oh you're just awful crabby," said Vera, discontented. "Go away from me, if you're going to be sour."

"Mama says I gotta stay right here, Vera, and not nowhere else."

"Well, your mama's getting mad 'cause you're being a bother in the kitchen," she stated factually.

"But I'm _hungry, _Vera!" wailed Jane suddenly, turning her ferocious frown on her sister. "I just want something to eat!"

Alec listened closely to his sister's plight as he snuck around the crawl-space next to the ladder. With every word from her mouth, Alec felt more and more hatred for his unreliable father, and more and more exasperation for his kind, but quite dense mother.

Surely she could see Jane was hungry? Surely she should think about feeding her before she gave rations to fat old Bernard or Gisela?

Little girls died much faster than big, chunky boys, but then again, girls didn't mean as much as boys. Janie, though, wasn't just a _girl._ She was Alec's girl, and she was special. If his father could see Janie and know how special she was, he'd never forget to send money for foodstuff and he'd never let her go hungry ever again.

Burchard, Alec was sure, would love Jane too. He just hadn't had the chance yet.

"Janie?"

Her bleak, blue eyes turned to him, and he saw the flash of brief, undulating anger as she realized he was spying.

"What?"

Vera was looking awful sneaky by now, and Alec wiggled his finger to call Jane closer. Vera frowned sadly at being left out, but let Jane go as she scrambled up and made her way closer.

She was too small. Even Alec knew.

"Did Mama give you somethin' to eat?" he asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"'Cause she's bein' sour and there ain't nothing to be had."

"Well, Janie…" he said slowly, "I know where we might get some."

"You do?" asked Janie, in awe.

"Yes, I do," said Alec certainly. "Just over yonder."

"Yonder where?" asked Jane skeptically. "There ain't no _yonder."_

"Yonder at the churchyard," said Alec with a grin. "I seen Father Alexander grabbing himself a big buck last week."

A buck meant meat, which would have been cut down to strips and hung to dry in the cold room of the manse. Janie's mouth watered at the very thought of the dried venison, though she knew the old priest wouldn't give her any.

"He ain't gonna share," said Janie softly. "He's old and selfish."

Alec flushed with excitement at Jane insulting the holy man, and smiled.

"We could just a-take some," he said practically. "He ain't gonna notice a few measly pieces."

"That's a sin," said Jane certainly. "Stealers go right to hell."

"So do liars," said Alec, counting on his finger. "And so do devils, and wicked children."

"We been liars…" said Janie nervously, remembering with intense clarity the time she and Alec had hid away in the bush to deceive the women.

"So if we're already goin' to hell, why not go later?"

Janie was confused.

"I ain't gonna die just because Father forgot our coin," he said lowly. "And I ain't gonna let you go dying."

"You don't _let_ me do anything," said Jane defiantly. "If I want to go dying, I'll just go right on ahead without any say from_ you."_

Alec rolled his eyes, biting his tongue against a powerful, scathing remark. He was the man of the house at the moment, and it was his job to make sure all the girls were good and safe. Bernard, Bero, Imnachar, Ingomer and Otker had gone out into the snow with Hiltrude and Gisela to look for some kind of work to make up some money, but because Alec was still too little, he was left behind.

He was five summers old, for goodness' sake, but still he was _too little._

Stupid Hiltrude.

Trudy, Vera, Mama, Rosamund and Jehanne had been left in Alec's care for the day, and he took his responsibilities very seriously.

Mama had just laughed at him when he told her as much.

"You come out with me," said Alec gently. "Tell Mama we're going to look for some rabbit in the snow-traps, and we'll go right off to the churchyard."

"Alright," said Jane softly, glancing to make sure Vera was still ignorant. She had focused herself on plugging a small mousy-hole in the wall with an old wad of fur, and paid the children no mind as they snuck past her.

Alec grabbed his fur covering and snuck out through the crack in the door, the crackling of the fire disguising his crunchy footfalls.

"Mama?" asked Jane, using the sweetest voice she could muster.

"Yes, sweeting?" asked Felicity gently, turning round to look.

"Me and Alec are gonna go and find some rabbit in the traps. Maybe we'll have one for dinner."

"You be safe out there, girlie, and mind you cover you feet."

"Yes Mama."

"And keep close to your brother. You remember that devil in the woods might be lurking."

"Yes Mama."

The devil named _Aro,_ Janie thought, would most likely not be lurking around the forest, but Mama didn't know any better.

Jane wasn't about to correct her.

"Be quick."

"Yes Mama."

Janie wrapped her toes in the little pelts and tied them snugly, stepping out into the cold, crisp winter air.

Alec was waiting at the side of the house, beckoning silently. Janie glanced back and saw Mama watching them through the crack, and to keep her from being suspicious, both took off in the general direction of the traps. They hit the tree line before they saw their mother look away, returning to the other tasks in the house.

"Come on, Janie," said Alec gently. "You good for running?"

Janie's legs shook, but she grit her teeth and nodded anyways.

Of course she could run.

The two took off at a fast pace, leaping as gracefully as two small bodies could through the deep snow, and were chilled to the bone by the time the snow lessened near the roads. Alec saw with disconcertion that his sister's lips were waxy pale with cold and her fingers looking a little blue. Wanting to keep her as safe as he could he took her hands in his own and gave her a good-natured, quick kiss on her lips to warm them.

It didn't help much, but Alec imagined it did.

"There's the church," he said softly. "Now, Father Alexander keeps it just _there_, I think." He pointed to the back of the small home where the snow was smooth and unbroken.

"How do we get there?" she asked.

"Dunno," said Alec. "Go right on in, I suppose."

"But what if he's there a-lookin'?" asked Jane, her eyes darting from side to side.

"Well, then, we sneak around him," said Alec simply. "It'll be easy, just you watch."

"But-"

"No buts, Janie," said Alec sternly. "Come along." There was nothing Jane could do but scamper behind her brother as he tramped through the untouched snow, his long body making a deep rift at the back of the priest's home.

Janie could smell burning wood, and she knew there was a warm fire inside.

"Alec, he's gonna see!" she whispered harshly.

"Quiet!"

Torn between hunger and fear of a whipping, Janie hesitated to move forward. Surely Father Alexander would catch them? Surely he'd send them home to Mama with a good cuffing?

Maybe he'd even damn her soul, little thief that she was.

"Come along, Janie, or you'll be hungry again tonight," said Alec softly. "Come inside."

"Oh alright then," she said, exasperation leaking into her voice. "But we gotta be fast."

"The very fastest," soothed Alec. "Now come along."

The two children, one behind the other, made their way through the deep snow surrounding the holy man's home. Alec, knowing just where to walk, kept them in the shallowest sections of the rift, but no matter how shallow it was, it seemed to engulf Janie's small body. The snow reached to the top of Alec's thighs, but on Janie, the snow reached right up to her waist. Lucky enough that Alec was good and strong, if not still hungry, and could forge a wide path through the cold, letting Janie follow behind.

When both children reached the door they paused, listening for any signs of life in the priest's house.

"I don't hear nothin'," said Alec lowly. "Just crackling."

"Maybe he's gone to sleep," said Janie gently. "He might be nappin'."

Just then, both children heard a loud noise from the direction of the church, and both recognized it instantly as the sound of Father Alexander's identifying, noisy cough.

"See? He ain't even home," said Alec triumphantly. He swung the door open and slipped right on in, looking around to find the meat.

Janie saw it instantly—great strips of venison hanging from the rafters of the little home. The smell of the spices seemed to waft her way and like a caged animal set free, she scrambled forth and tore a great piece from it's rope.

"Easy Janie," warned Alec as Jane stuffed the food into her mouth. "You'll just be sick."

"Nuh uh," she mumbled through her mouthful. "I'm just hungry." Alec, sensing his words were useless, tore off a piece of his own and took a large mouthful, swallowing quickly.

"We best take one for Mama and Vera too," said Alec, "and maybe Trudy."

Janie frowned at the mention of her silly, rather stupid sister, but grabbed an extra for her anyways.

Two for the twins, one for Mama and one for Vera and Trudy to share made four pieces of venison missing from Father Alexander's store, and both children knew that the good holy man would be sure to take note.

"We best be getting out, then," said Janie softly, her nerves rising steadily. "He might come back and see us."

"Let's go then," said Alec quietly. "We just gotta—"

"You thieving devils!"

Both children started and wheeled around, coming face-to-face with Father Alexander, who was spitting with rage. Janie cried out as his hand swung out at her, connecting with her cheek. She dropped her half-eaten venison and the piece she'd filched, sprawling out on the floor. She rose just in time to see Alec meet the same fate, scrambling back to his feet with vim and vigour.

"You can't be smacking me!" cried Alec indignantly. "I'm the man!"

"You're a bratty boy, and a thieving demon!" shouted Father Alexander. "I'll have you yet!"

And as the last words were said, both of the holy man's hands reached out to snatch her brother. Alec, ever crafty, maneuvered his way out of the priest's grip and got to his feet.

"I'll have the best of you yet, Alexander Baudry," he snarled angrily. "Stop your sniveling, girl, I'll have none of it!"

Janie had succumbed once again to tears at the priest's harsh treatment, and even though he was angry, she couldn't help herself.

"I say, that's enough!" he cried, gripping her arm. "Thieves aren't permitted to masquerade as sniveling little girls! I daresay the devil has sent you here, that's what, and I'll have none of it!"

"I ain't a devil demon!" cried Janie, fearful. She knew very well what happened to devil demons, and she didn't want to be burned.

"I daresay that red-eyed specter sent you," growled Father Alexander. "Well, we shall see what your mother has to say about this."

And then, without any further to-do, both battered, hungry children were rushed out of the holy man's home, through the snow, and straight through the wooden door of their own hut.

Mama and Rosamund looked up in alarm, and both children saw their brothers watching on too.

No jobs for them, today.

"As god as my witness, madam, I'll have these monsters brought to account!"

"My dear Father, what is it they've done?" asked Rosamund shakily. She was a woman who lived in constant fear of offending the priest, the Lord or her sovereign.

"They've stolen my rations, that's what they've done!" he barked. "I'll expect full compensation, you understand?"

"Father, we—"

"_Full_ compensation."

"What are you asking, Father?" asked Hiltrude suddenly, appearing ragged and worn.

"Five gold pieces, at the least," he said angrily. "They've stolen and eaten the best of my venison!"

Hiltrude's dark eyes flicked over both children, and with the fire behind her, Janie thought it looked like her head was quite on fire.

It frightened her.

"We'll see that you get it," said Hiltrude gently. "My most humble apologies, sir."

"Well, see that you do," said the priest, disgruntled. "And keep your demons under control!"

And with that, the priest turned on his heel, stooped to duck under the door, and slammed it shut. The silence was thick and lasted only a second, but once the holy man was out of earshot, it was Hiltrude that stepped forth. Janie and Alec both felt her meaty, calloused hands on their arms, and were sad, but not surprised, when those same hands came down hard.

"You little thieves!" she spat angrily. Janie felt the hand on her already bruised cheek, and did her best to stay put.

Scampering away would only make her angrier, and then she'd _really_ get it.

"How _dare_ you!" she cried. Janie was thrown to the side, knocking herself against the table as Hiltrude focused entirely on Alec, who she knew must have masterminded the entire plot. "Thieving brute!"

"I ain't!" cried Alec fearfully. "I ain't been stealing!"

"Liar!"

Janie saw Hiltrude brandishing the frightening, familiar leather throng, and without hesitation, she let it fall against Alec's back. Janie cried out loud as her howled in pain, squirming to get away.

"I'm sorry!" cried Alec. "I'm sorry!"

Three more times did the strap come down on him, and Janie was horrified to see a thick, red welt forming.

Janie, being much smaller than Alec, felt Rosamund's firm hand on her backside, stinging.

"Ow!"

"Get right to your pallet and don't let me see your faces again this day," growled Hiltrude dangerously, the leather throng twitching in her hand. Alec scampered up from his place on the floor and rushed to the ladder, ascending as quick as he could to find a sleeping spot.

"Get!" shouted Hiltrude, rushing at Janie. "Get gone!"

Janie followed her brother. When she reached the upper landing, she found him curled on their mother's pallet, crying bitterly into the straw.

"Alec?"

"She's a meanie," cried Alec unhappily. "And now I got an awful sting." Janie saw the throng's sharp bite on his back and had to resist the urge to touch it, not wanting to cause him any more pain.

"I'm still hungry," said Jane softly, remembering the three bites of venison she'd managed before they'd been caught.

"Bero caught a couple of rabbits," said Alec mutinously. "Now we ain't gonna get any."

Janie's stomach grumbled in protest and tears prickled once more at the thought of the meaty, delicious rabbit Mama would no doubt be cooking up.

"Lay down, Janie."

And so she did.

"I think Hiltrude is an awful mean lady," he said matter-of-factly. "She been nothing but a meanie to us."

"She helped us born," said Janie softly. "We'd be right dead if she hadn't catched us."

"Gisela coulda catched us," said Alec mutinously.

Janie snuggled closer, pulling a scrap of warm fur over the both of them. At least Alec wasn't a meanie, she thought.

"I'm awful tired now," said Alec quietly, closing his pale eyes. "Are you ready to go asleep yet, Jane-girl?"

Jane, without a word, cuddled closer to her brother and pushed her face into the straw, not wanting him to see her cry.

**A/N: To reiterate- I'll try to have more of this story and another chapter of Dark Waltz ready later this weekend.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I know it's been a while, but here we are. I felt inspired tonight, and decided to get another chapter out for you. I can't guarantee when the next one will be ready, but hopefully it won't take as long as this one did!**

**Thanks for sticking with me.**

Chapter 9

By the time another cold had passed through Vale Piola, Janie had grown at least another three inches. Alec still towered over her and she still struggled to reach the tallest plants, but she no longer had to stretch to reach the tops of the grain grasses. She could support the weight of her heavy basket and pick at the same time, and she considered it quite a feat. It was here, while she was picking grains, that her mama broke the news.

"Janie girl, come over here," she called, poking her head out of the house.

"I'm almost done, mama!"

"Come, sweeting."

Alec glanced over at his mama, all the while looking suspicious.

"What for?" he called back. Both youngsters saw the flash of irritation on their mother's face, but in a truly unusual display of control, she masked it well.

"Come, children, we've got good news," she said, "but until you decide to come back indoors, you'll not hear it."

Janie wasted no more time, and darted into the house. Alec was not as enthused, but did not want to be left alone outside.

"Oh mama, what is it?" asked Janie. "Is my papa to come home?"

"Yes, dearest," said Felicity, laughing, "but that is not the whole of it. In a fortnight's time, your sister is to be wed."

"My sister?" cried Janie, looking around her mother. To her utter dismay, she saw Vera being fawned over by her mother and Rosamund, both women giddy and well pleased.

"A family from a village down the way," said her mama, gesturing vaguely to the east. "The man and his sons were here not four days ago, looking for a suitable wife for his eldest. He caught sight of our pretty Vera and could not be dissuaded!"

"But then she'll go away," said Janie unhappily, "and then we'll not see her."

"It is but the way of things, darling," said Felicity gently. "Vera will live just over yonder, in the next town over. Right close to the market."

Janie felt a strange tug in her middle, as she fought back the feelings that came with her mama's words. On one hand, Vera could be awful bossy. On the other, she was the kindest and most gentlest of her siblings, and aside from Alec, Janie loved her best.

"But what about Trudy?" asked Janie quietly. "Couldn't they take her instead?

"Magnatrude is not yet a woman, Jane," said Felicity gently. "She hasn't yet begun to bleed. She could not give a man children."

Janie stared, confused, but did not question it further.

"Vera?"

"Oh, Janie-girl, isn't it lovely?" cried Vera happily, breaking away from the crowing women to clasp her sister's hands. "Oh, I'm very much pleased!"

"But you'll be just one woman," said Janie reasonably. "Won't he find another?" An uncharacteristic scowl lit Vera's face.

"Absolutely not, Jane," she said. "No more young men are taking many women. Only one woman, now. Our father is quite shameful for having four."

"Audovera!" gasped Hiltrude, her voice crackly from sickness. "I'll not have you scorning your papa, no matter how married you might be."

"Yes Mama," she said dutifully. Her voice said the words her mother wanted to hear, but her eyes held all the spite.

"Your papa will be back in not half a fortnight to discuss Vera's dowry," said Gisela pleasantly, waddling out from the sleeping pallets. "There'll not be a soul in our village who isn't in attendance!"

"Gisella," said Vera, turning very red.

"Your papa is an esteemed soldier, and to have his firstborn child married into a family of soldier men is a very grand happening, Mistress Bride," said Gisela smartly. "I think your papa will be quite proud when he comes home."

"Not very likely," said Alec lowly, speaking for the first time since entering the house. Janie was the only one who heard him, and responded with a scowl of her own.

"But you'll sleep at home here, right Vera?" asked Janie hopefully. "In the palette with Trudy?"

"No, silly girl," said Vera, kissing her cheek. "I think I shall sleep with my husband in his palette!"

All four women, including pious Rosamund, cackled wickedly at her words, and every child's head turned to stare.

"Have I made a joke?" asked Vera confusedly. "Is that a falsehood?"

"You won't be doing much _sleeping_ in your husband's palette, girl," said Rosamund snidely, turning to face both Janie and Vera fully. Her face seemed even more scowling and sarcastic than usual.

"Oh hush, Rosa," scolded Felicity. "It's her mother's place to explain the doings of the marital bed."

"Do not _scold_ me, Felicity," she barked. "I am not one of your demon children to boss about—"

"No one's bossing anyone," said Gisela easily. "It's just that…"

"My _what_ kind of children?"

"Come outside with me, babies," said Vera softly, taking one hand from each child in her own. Jane held tight to the familiar softness and allowed her sister to lead her out of doors, into the warm, soggy heat.

"But Vera, what will happen now?" asked Janie worriedly. "Won't you ever come back home?"

"I daresay, no," said Vera rather sadly. Alec, who loved Vera second best as well, didn't like to hear her sad.

"Well then, what kind of a man takes his wife from her family?" he demanded. "A foul one, that's what."

"Oh, but they say he's ever so handsome, and great, and smart and strong," said Vera gently. "And I think we shall come into the village sometimes, for he must know how I'll miss my Mama."

"And us too, right Vera?" said Janie worriedly. "You won't forget to miss me?"

"Oh and of course my babies," said Vera indulgently, pressing firm kisses to each child's cheek. Janie threw her arms around her in response, but Alec, ever fighting for his masculinity, simply tolerated it.

"I'm _not_ a baby," argued Alec. "Janie and I are six summers this time, and that makes me a man."

"Yes of course, Master Alec, our favourite before-baby," said Vera reverently. "Always the big grownup. But at least Janie's still just our baby, right?"

Janie had no argument like Alec did—she was _not_ a boy, nor was she a lady—so she frowned and nodded her acceptance.

"There's nothing wrong with being little, Jane-girl," said Vera softly. "I daresay I'll miss being very little like you when I'm old and married."

"But you're not old, Vera," said Alec reasonably. "Just twelve summers."

"How do you count so high, boy?" she asked wondrously. "Mama doesn't count so high, and I'm sure no one else ever taught you."

"Well now, I don't know," said Alec evasively. "I just do."

"Well then, you're a very smart young man," she asserted. Vera was always full of praises.

Janie heard more raised voices from the house as the rest of the boys along with Trudy fled the house, traipsing into the fields.

"Will you get a new dress?" asked Jane softly.

"No," said Vera easily. "I think they shall hem your mama's wedding gown. It's the newest."

"What shall you do in your husband's house?" asked Janie. "Shall you cook?"

"Yes."

"And clean?"

"Yes."

"And gather?"

"Well now, no," said Vera. "Maybe for the first summers, but I expect my children shall collect, much as you do for our home."

"You're gonna have children?" said Janie, frowning. "I thought only Mamas had children."

"When a woman has children, she's called a mama," said Vera patiently.

"But how'd them mamas get children?" asked Alec practically.

"Well, I don't know," admitted Vera. "I expect my husband knows. He's a grown man, after all."

"Oh," said Janie, nodding. "I suppose so."

"Vera!"

"What Trudy?" called Vera crossly, turning to stare at the soon-to-be eldest girl of the Baudry clan.

"I think that man's just marrying you so you'll please him," she taunted.

"Well that's my job, isn't it?" said Vera in return. "You must please your husband."

"I heard mama say that you're gonna please him in his bed," returned Trudy, giggling. Vera looked very startled.

"Well, I suppose I shall make it soft," she decreed. "And clean."

Trudy just cackled, looking very pleased with herself.

"Not _that_ kind of pleasing," she said. _"My_ mama explained it all to me."

"Explained what?"

"It's a secret!" cried Trudy, running back from the crowd. "Just keep the news away from the babies, 'cause they're too little!"

"Trudy, what did Rosa explain?" shouted Vera, jumping up. All thoughts of her two twin babies were left behind as she loped gracefully across the yard, demanding answers from her mischievous, conniving younger sister.

"Well, Janie," began Alec lazily, "I suppose Trudy shall be the eldest girl now. What say you to that?" Jane frowned and stuck her pink tongue through her lips, shaking her head.

"She shan't boss me," said Janie defiantly. "I'll not listen to _her_ like I do to Vera. Vera's still oldest, even if she's gone."

Alec chortled mirthfully.

"I'll wager you've _got _to listen to her," he said. "After all, she's going to be the one watchin' over the gathering now."

"Oh hush, Alec!" cried Jane unhappily. "Won't you miss Vera too?"

"I suppose so," admitted Alec easily. "It'll be mighty strange having her away. But she'll visit, Janie, you'll see."

"No she won't visit," muttered Janie angrily. "Neither Mama, nor Hiltrude or Gisela or Rosamund visit their families."

"Well, Mama's people are a mite dead, aren't they?" said Alec reasonably. "And the other live so awful far away… and our Papa's right horrid."

"Alec!"

"What?" asked Alec indignantly, sensing the beginnings of an argument. "There can't be a more terrible man than our Papa. Just look how he treats you girls, see?"

"He treats us just fine," sniffed Janie. "He loves _all_ of his children."

"He didn't even speak a word to you last time, Janie, even though you were very little and new," Alec reminded. "There ain't no way he did."

"He did too!"

"Nuh-uh, Janie," said Alec knowingly. "He spent all his time bothering the women and hunting with the men. I heard him tell Bernard that he was ever so glad to have boys, b'cause there ain't no use for girls."

"He didn't say that!" wailed Janie. "You're a dirty liar!"

"I ain't, and you know it," he said sharply. "But don't worry, Janie. Even if our Pa don't love you much, our Mama loves you and so do I."

Janie frowned with distinct displeasure as Alec patted her light hair. In a demonstration of love that was very unlike him, he bent down and kissed her cheek, blushing bright red as he did so. Unable to stay angry with him, Jane put the anger and resentment away, and let it fester.

* * *

><p>"Oh Janie-girl, hold this piece up, would you?" Janie took hold of the skirt with her newly-scrubbed hands and held it fast, letting her mama's deft fingers raise the hem two whole inches. Vera, it seemed, was shorter than Mama had been when she was married, and as such, her dress needed fixing.<p>

"Whoops, sorry darling," said Mama softly, seeing Vera wincing as the needle stuck her. "Try and stay quite still now."

"Yes Felicity," said Vera dutifully, unable to hide her excitement even when she had a pin stuck into her leg. Janie watched with morbid fascination as her mama's deft fingers slipped the needle to and fro, the fabric clinging to itself along the seam. Vera's little toes could be seen beneath the gown as the hem began to rise, and Janie had a sudden urge to tickle them.

"Quit it, Janie!" squealed Vera, feeling the little fingers dancing on her feet. "You'll make the hem crooked!" Felicity laughed and held the needle still until Vera stopped wiggling and Janie's giggles died down.

"Now then, girls," said Felicity gently. "What say you to some fresh stew for dinner tonight?"

"Oh yes, Mama!" cried Jane emphatically. "New stew!"

"That would be wonderful," said Vera solemnly. "I shall very much like to help, if I may."

"Well now," said Felicity softly, appraising Vera with careful approval. "I daresay you can. You'll want to know all about stew making for your new husband, won't you?"

Vera blushed her agreement and looked down at the hem of her gown, refusing to acknowledge Jane's petulant scowl.

"What's his name, Mama?" she asked, looking up at Felicity.

"His name is Electus," said Felicity gently. "He's working to be a soldier, like your papa."

Vera's cheeks darkened even more.

"Or a blacksmith," said Vera gently. "Mama said that if soldiering doesn't work out for him, he'll take his father's forge."

"Yes, perhaps," agreed Felicity gently, continuing with her hemming. In a few short, quiet minutes, the skirt was the proper height.

"Well now, look here. Such a beauty, my girl." Hiltrude's voice croaked out from the doorway and three sets of eyes looked round at her. She looked more sickly than usual today, clutching a handkerchief to her chest and using the table to support her weight.

"Isn't she, Hiltrude?" asked Felicity gently, pinching Vera's cheeks. "Such a lovely lass I've never seen."

"Well, you might match her yourself," said Hiltrude gruffly, appraising both girls side by side. "Burchard picked you for your looks, that much is certain."

Janie saw her mama blush before she turned back to Vera's dress, fussing over the sleeves next. Unable to help herself, Jane kept her eyes trained on Hiltrude as she slumped and coughed.

"What are you staring at, girlie?" asked Hiltrude quickly, catching Jane's gaze. "It ain't good to stare."

"You're sick," said Jane, glancing up and down her hunched form.

"Yes, I know that," snapped Hiltrude. "Be of some use to your Mama, now, or away with you."

"Yes ma'am," said Janie dutifully, harboring secret pleasure as Hiltrude coughed again.

She was a terrible mean woman to Janie and her brother.

"Never seen so strange a child in all my days," said Hiltrude gruffly, coming closer to inspect Vera's gown. "I say, Felicity, I think that not having their Papa around to mind them has made them rough."

"Mama," admonished Vera, frowning. She looked between Jane and Hiltrude, noting the fierce stance of the former, and the hard eyes of the latter.

"Well I _hate_ you," said Janie venomously, "and I'm awful glad you're sick."

"Jehanne!" cried Felicity, aghast. "You get right to that palette, missy, and put yourself straight to sleep. No new stew for you."

"Oh, Felicity, Janie didn't mean it, did you, baby?" pleaded Vera eagerly. "She's just upset with Mama, and Mama's fearful sick with cold. No one meant anything by it."

"Shut up, child, and don't you put words in my mouth," snapped Hiltrude. "I meant what I said, Vera, and I daresay so did she. Get away, girl." Her last words were directed to Jane.

"I hate you," said Janie obstinately, making her way to her sleeping place. She perched herself atop it and continued to stare at Hiltrude, knowing how it made her uneasy.

"Well, I best be going after Ingomer," said Hiltrude darkly, peeling her eyes from the glaring child. "Lord only knows how he'll make out in the field all by his lonesome."

"Oh Hiltrude, let me go," said Felicity imploringly. "You should be indoors where there's no drafts."

"No, Felicity," said Hiltrude tiredly, "I cannot stand another moment with those eyes upon me. I can only pray that its twin won't be lurking about outside."

"Alec hates you too," said Janie, fuelling Hiltrude's annoyance. "Be careful, or he might come for you."

"Nonsense, girl," snapped Hiltrude. "Get you to sleep before I send that red-eyed forest devil for you."

"He won't come for me until I'm older," said Janie smugly. "Said so himself."

"What do you mean, he said so?" demanded Felicity sharply. "Have you seen that devil, Jane? Has he spoken to you?"

Hiltrude crossed herself and Vera gasped audibly.

"However did you get away without being ate?" she cried. "Oh Janie!" Jane scrambled for lies, and in a heartbeat, they came to her.

"No, I spoke to him in pretend," said Janie. "Just pretend."

"Well, it ain't good to be pretending things such as that, darling," said Felicity sharply. "No more playing of that sort, you hear?"

"Yes Mama."

"Good girl. Now make amends with Hiltrude and get off to bed in recompense."

Janie mumbled a half-hearted, insincere "sorry" before she flopped herself down into the hay, her heart beating in her throat.

Somehow, she didn't think the red-eyed devil would be happy if she told his secrets.

* * *

><p>"Well, Janie, I guess it's over now, ain't it?" whispered Alec softly, ignoring his mother's admonishing look.<p>

Father Alexander was blessing the meal set before them, and the table felt very empty without Vera.

"Yes, Alec," whispered Jane. "Vera's gone now."

That afternoon, the clans of Baudry and Fratter were joined through the union of their two oldest children. Vera had looked every part the blushing bride while her husband, nineteen year old Electus, had seemed very big and very serious. Janie hadn't been certain he wouldn't just gobble Vera right up.

He seemed quite the sort.

Father Alexander finished blessing the meal, and after a quick scan of the persons at the table, the dishes began to be served. As usual, Janie's food was served last.

"Janie?" asked Alec softly, nudging her side with his elbow.

"What?" asked Jane, swallowing her big mouthful of stew.

"D'you suppose we'll ever be married?" asked Alec softly. "Do you think I'll find a nice girl and marry her, just like that brute of Vera's did?"

"I don't know," said Janie nervously, picking at a tuber on her plate.

"Well, if I did, I'd be sure to take you too," said Alec vehemently. "You'd be my honored sister."

"Honored sisters are just spinsters," said Jane scathingly. "I'm not going to be a spinster."

"Well, I shan't let you marry a brute," said Alec decisively. "He shall have to be gentle and kind to you before I let him be your husband."

"It'll be our papa's choice," Jane reminded him smugly. "Not of your doing."

"Nuh-uh," said Alec easily. "I'll be the husband-picker for you, mistress Jane. If there is not a good one in sight, I shall let you come with me."

"Well, maybe," said Jane dubiously. "Do you suppose Vera's made it back to her new village yet?"

"Dunno," said Alec, shrugging. "Perhaps."

"Quiet, you two, and eat your rations," snapped Rosamund suddenly, eyes glued to the two youngest. Janie stuffed a large chunk of dry bread into her mouth alongside her stew, chewing carefully.

Rosamund was awful cross today, seeing as on the day of Vera's wedding, their Papa had sent naught but a few pieces of coin and a garbled message with a boy from his ranks. His great soldiers were due to fight the Saxons any day now, and he could not come back to the village at such a crucial time. Half of Vera's dowry was sent directly, and the other half would come when he was back in the springtime. He wanted to see her groom before he paid the full price, to ensure that the Fratter clan had not misled him about his quality and character.

"Yes," said Trudy suddenly, her back straight and her nose high in the air. "I'm the eldest girl now, asides from the grownups, of course, and I decree that you shall sit straight and eat your rations and not speak unless someone speaks to you first."

"Hush, Trudy," said Rosamund sharply.

"I ain't gonna be bossed by you, Trudy," said Alec smartly. "I'm a boy, see, and that means that _I'll_ be saying what I do and don't do."

"Well, I'm older," she simpered. "That means I'm boss."

"You're just a stupid girl," said Bernard suddenly. _"I'm_ the boss here, and Vera only got to boss the girls and the babies."

"I ain't a baby!" cried Janie crossly, her bread slopping messily in the stew.

"You eat like one," sneered Bernard. "And you look like one, and I say that you _are. _Baby."

"Mama, I ain't!" cried Janie, angry.

"Hush boy," said Gisela crossly. "Don't go upsetting the child for nothing."

"You be quiet, woman," said Bernard haughtily. "I see no Papa here, nor an elder sister. I'm the oldest man."

"You're but a boy yet, Bernard, and if you continue to conduct yourself in such a fashion, you shall be introduced to the cane."

"Papa would be awful cross if you caned me, mother," said Bernard smugly.

"Well your Papa's not here, is he, boy!?" boomed Rosamund, causing Bernard to falter. "You sit quietly at your seat and finish your dinner, or _I_ shall introduce you to the cane, and my hand is much heavier than your mother's!"

Bernard slumped in his seat as Rosamund's venomous eyes shifted from himself to Janie, who was sulking.

"Eat your dinner, Janie, afore they take it away," said Alec lowly, seeing the greedy look in Rosamund's eyes.

"I ain't a baby, and I ain't hungry," sniffed Jane impetuously.

"Then get off to bed," snapped Rosamund passionately. "And take your brother with you!"

"I ain't done eating yet," said Alec simply, continuing to bite at his stew with simple determination.

"Let the boy finish, Rosa," said Felicity gently. "Janie, off with you if you're finished."

"Yes mama," said Janie softly.

"_Yes mama,"_ mocked Bernard. Before Janie could so much as turn to face him, Rosamund flew over the table and gripped him by his hair. With shouts and protests, Bernard was dragged to the front door and flung therefrom, Rosamund following suit with a large birch cane.

"I'm done now, Mama," said Alec quickly, scampering from the table before Rosamund could return and find him. He took Janie by the hand and brought her to their sleeping place, urgently pressing her down into the hay.

"She's gone mad," said Alec darkly.

"She's always been mad," said Janie simply. "She's Trudy's mama, remember? And Trudy's been mad since she was a babe."

"You didn't know her when she was a babe," said Alec.

"Well mama did and she says so too."

"When did she say so?" demanded Alec. "I never heard such a thing in my life."

"Well I did, so that's all there is to it," said Janie, closing off the conversation.

"Hush, babies, and close your eyes," said Mama suddenly, appearing over Alec's shoulder. She pulled the furs up higher on them and kissed them sweetly. "Rosa's a mite angry and she's got her cane out. If you sleep now, she won't be wanting to wake you."

"Yes mama." The two little voices rang out at the same time, and with a smile, Felicity let them be.

"Goodnight, Alec," said Jane.

"G'night, Janie."

**A/N: So a lot has happened since we last met... I'm at university now, pursuing a degree in English studies. I've been busy, as you can probably tell. Since April, I've been working, studying, reading and studying some more... hopefully, I'll be able to cram in some time to write some more of this story while still doing well in my studies.**

**Be sure to let me know what you think!**


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